


Going Medieval

by DangerFloof



Series: A Two Parent, Two Bottles of Wine a Night Job [11]
Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Complete, Consequences, Drinking, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Renaissance Faires, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Teenagers, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerFloof/pseuds/DangerFloof
Summary: Hear ye, hear ye!  Thou art cordially invited to attend Bog Harbor's first Renaissance Pleasure Faire!
Relationships: Louise Belcher/Zeke (Bob's Burgers)
Series: A Two Parent, Two Bottles of Wine a Night Job [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1052096
Comments: 85
Kudos: 29





	1. ONE

The Belcher family’s rustbucket of a car jerks to a stop in the dusty back lot of Bog Harbor’s Agricultural Fairground.

Gene smiles apologetically at his mother.

Too excited about the upcoming day to criticize, Linda beams at her son. “That’s fine, Genie-Beanie.”

Tina is the most aggressive driver of the three children, Louise can parallel park better than anyone in the family, and Gene…well, he tries hard. _It’s a good thing New York City has good public transportation_ , Linda thinks to herself, her heart doing that funny flip-flop again when she remembers that, just three months from now, her baby boy is going to move to the Big Apple to pursue his dream of becoming a stand-up comedian.

They step out of the car and stretch. Linda smiles at the sight of medieval pennants attached to the parking lot markers. She can scarcely believe the big weekend is finally here! As soon as she heard about the plans for the Faire last fall, she knew she _had_ to participate, and Linda eagerly threw herself into the planning committee, eventually working up the courage to audition for the cast. Naturally, stupid Colleen Caviello was chosen for Queen Elizabeth, but only because she can do a passable English accent, and Donovan, the cast director, hasn't quite forgiven the Belchers for the _A Potluck in the Grass_ incident. Linda’s convinced she would bring more _flair_ to the role—and certainly more songs—but disappointment doesn’t stop Linda from adding as much razzle-dazzle as she can to her character, Lady Rosamund, lady-in-waiting to the Queen.

“Linda! Hey, Linda! Oops, I mean—good day, m’lady!”

The Belchers turn and wave to Gretchen, already costumed in a peasant blouse and layers of skirts. Gretchen, clutching her corset in her hands, comes over to greet Linda and Gene, trailed by two hairdressers Linda recognizes from the salon and a young blonde classmate of Louise’s.

“Hi, Mrs. Belcher,” Abby grins, clearly as excited for the day as everyone else. Her hair is already braided around her head in a crown, interlaced with blue ribbons and spangled with tiny flowers.

“M’lady,” Linda responds, dropping a curtsy.

“Oh, right,” Abby giggles and curtsies back. “M’lady.” She turns to Gene. “M’lord.”

Gene, still in his street clothes, bows deeply and kisses her hand. “Poots the Fool at your service, m’lady.”

Blushing, she eyes his long hair. “Come by our booth sometime, I’d love to try something with your mane.”

“Aye, count on it.”

Gretchen and Linda exchange a look.

“We’re next to the Pirate’s Cove—All Tied Up, you can’t miss us!” Gretchen shouts as she drags her employees off to put the final touches to their space.

Linda glances at her phone; it’s nearly 8:00. “It’s almost time to check in, Gene.” She presses a hand to her belly, making a face.

“You still feel queasy?”

“Oh, it’s the excitement of the theater!” Her stomach has been touchy this past week, anticipation making it delicate. Bob insisted on sending her off with tea and toast for breakfast, which tasted nice, but did nothing for the nausea. She hopes she feels better in time to sample from the food vendors. How can she go to the Faire and not have a real, authentic medieval turkey leg? Or a churro? Ooh—or _curly fries!_

Mother and son make their way to Barn 5, a squat, industrial-looking building constructed in the 1950’s, which has been transformed into the costume department. Across the way, flanked by barns, surrounded by bleachers, is the tournament field. Linda smiles a little looking at the empty Royal Box, thinking how much Tina will enjoy the jousting, hoping there’s some way to get her daughter up there with her. Thoughts of her children’s pleasures bring her around to more immediate concerns.

“Now Gene, I want you to be careful with that Abby. She’s still in high school, you know.”

Gene blushes a little. “We’re just talking. And she turned eighteen last month. Louise went to her birthday party, remember?”

Linda hums, a vaguely disapproving sound. “Well, you’re on the verge of a great adventure, and I don’t want you to get in trouble with a young girl.”

“I won’t, Mom,” he says, and deftly turns the subject to tongue twisters in preparation for the day.

_I’m not the one who needs a lecture about inappropriate relationships_, he frowns to himself, thinking of his little sister and Zeke. He and Tina talked about it last night as they prepped dinner.

_“I don’t think I’d have agreed to keep my mouth shut if I’d known it would go on this long,” Tina said as she cubed the chicken._

_Gene, carefully measuring out the Bisquick for the dumplings, sighed. Zeke stopped in to say hello a few hours ago, and though they did and said nothing to give away the game, the way he and Louise looked at each other, the knowing glances, the silent tells, made him squirm with embarrassment._

_“He’s not here that often. They barely see each other,” he assured Tina._

_“They’re pretty…involved though, aren’t they?”_

_“It’s just three months more. Then it’s all on them,” Gene said with finality._

* * * * *

Bob, Tina, Louise, and Zeke stand outside the gates along with practically everyone else in the entire Bog Harbor area, waiting for the Faire to open. They arrived early and bought their tickets from Kathleen, Teddy's sort-of-maybe girlfriend, a calm presence making change and directing sales at the ticket booth, but they're still at the back of a huge crowd. The giant archway has been covered with a wooden cutout of a castle created by the community college’s theater department, complete with a walkway for the cast. Colleen Caviello, dressed as Queen Elizabeth I in a tall red wig and a wide dress made of couch fabric, greets her subjects with enthusiastic but dignified waves and good wishes for the day.

“Look, kids, there’s your mother! And Gene!” Bob reluctantly agreed to take the weekend off and come to the event as a patron, not a merchant—burgers and fries, as Tina repeatedly reminded him, aren’t period fare anyway—but now that he’s here, he’s getting into the idea. Linda all but wrestled the Robin Hood hat she made for him onto his head; now he’s wishing he’d agreed to the full costume.

“You mean Lady Rosamond and Poots the Fool,” Tina reminds him from under her paper parasol. “And I’m Mistress Jane.”

“It’s weird, thinkin’ of ladies callin’ themselves mistresses,” Zeke frowns.

“It was today’s equivalent of Miss or Missus.” Tina pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. She borrowed an outfit from one of her reenactor friends in Chicago, and has repeatedly informed everyone that it is a very typical look for a middle-class Elizabethan woman. The bodice is a little long for her in the torso—she keeps adjusting it—but the blue linen suits her coloring and the effect is good. Her hair is gathered back in a snood, and she’s topped off the look with a wide-brimmed straw hat to protect her pale, olive-tinged skin from the sun.

“Whatever,” Louise shrugs, determinedly modern in black skinny jeans, sneakers, and shredded grey t-shirt. She’s only excited about the Faire because it looks like a dorky feast for the eyes and ears. She’ll miss most of the people watching today, as she’s an attendant at Jackie and Jane’s wedding, but she’ll be free to enjoy tomorrow. After much persuasion, she allowed her mother to make her a costume for Sunday, once she realized she could go as a pirate. Tina insists that the puffy pirate shirt, leggings, scarf, and Doc Martins don’t make her look at all like an actual woman pirate from the era such as Grace O’Malley, which naturally makes Louise like the costume even more.

The line eventually moves forward, and soon the group is inside the gates.

“Well hot damn, this is real nice,” Zeke smiles.

“It is,” Bob agrees.

“Well, someone worked hard,” Tina mutters.

Louise grins; _God, it’s even dumber than I imagined!_ A mix of tents and modern structures, lots of signs declaring “Ye Olde” whatever, particleboard cutouts of dragons and fairies, and the _people_! Most, like her father and Zeke, are wearing some combination of modern clothes and costume pieces, but a few, like Tina, went hard-core. Louise spots several girls from her school who apparently missed the memo and costumed up as hippies. There’s so much to make fun of she hardly knows where to start, but Louise quickly decides her favorites are the cosplayers.

A trio of Brothers from the Night’s Watch clomp by in heavy boots, already sweltering under their shaggy, dead-Muppet looking cloaks. Louise counts no less than four Daenerys Targaryens, at least two Hobbits, several incarnations of The Doctor, and it looks like an away team from the _Enterprise_ beamed down over by the oh-so-historically accurate sno-cone stand.

“When d’ya gotta be at the rental place?” Zeke asks her.

“Eleven fourty-five. It’s just over there,” she adds, pointing to a flower-festooned tent with a big sign out front that says Gentle’s Rentals.  
  


“Well, that gives us almost an hour and a half,” Bob says, checking out the program. “What do you kids want to see?”

“A beheading? A burning?”

“Louise….”

“C’mon Dad, beheadings and burnings are _period_ , aren’t they, Tina?”

Louise has repeatedly assured her sister that she knows a _period_ when she sees one, which hasn’t stopped Tina, too serious as always, from monologing about historical accuracy since she stepped off the plane two days ago.

“What’re them folks doin’?” Zeke leads them to a grassy knoll, where a group of men and women in colorful costumes dance, the bells strapped to their shins jingling in rhythm.

“It’s called Morris Dancing,” Tina explains. “It’s a form of English country dancing.”

“Wait,” Bob squints in thought. “I’ve seen this before. Didn’t they make fun of it in that Mr. Bean thing you showed us, Tina?”

“ _Mistress Jane_ ,” Tina sighs. “And yes, they made fun of it in _Blackadder_.”

“Excuse me, Mistress Jane,” Bob bows. “Why are they waving handkerchiefs?”

She points to a banner. “They’re the Cottswald Twelve, we can ask.”

“What the heck’s a Cottswald?” Zeke frowns.

“It’s a place in England,” Louise says.

“South-west and South-Central England,” Tina specifies. “Shh!”

Bob and Tina are engrossed with the show. Zeke takes advantage the distraction and leans over to whisper in Louise’s ear, “Now come on, darlin’, today’s gonna be a good day, no reason to be a wet blanket.”

“Let me have fun in my own way, alright?” She’s enjoying the Faire more than she expected, now that she’s here. She’d probably be more conventionally enthusiastic if everyone else weren’t so aggressively gun-ho.

“Fine, fine,” he mutters. Truth to tell, he’s torn between admiring how smart Tina and his girl are, and feeling stupid for not knowing what’s apparently basic geography.

“I’d have more fun if…well, you know.”

He sighs. “Just three months an’ we can be as open as we please.”

Louise makes a face. She knows, but it sucks _so hard!_ What’s the difference between 17 years and 9 months, and 18 years exactly? None, that’s what! Zeke’s already promised her a fancy night on the town to mark her birthday, their first real date—he instructed her to buy a red evening dress—and she tries to focus on that, not the eternity between now and then.

* * * * *

The Royal Court, heralded by trumpets and escorted by an honor guard, stop at Byrds of a Feather Fancy Fripperies. Some fairgoers drop Her Majesty a deep bow, but many shyly sidle away. Their Gracious Queen smiles benignly at them all, casting Lady Roseamund a smug side-eye. Lady Roseamund, still convinced she’d make a better monarch, but also displeased by the lack of proper respect shown to the Queen, grips Her Majesty’s water goblet tightly.

Poots the Fool, dressed in an elaborate, colorful costume with lots of dags and bells for movement and sound, genuflects before his sovereign. “Your Majesty, who was the fattest knight of the Round Table?”

Queen Elizabeth touches the feathered fan she’s admiring to her chin in thought. “Hmm, I do not know, Fool. Indeed, who _was_ the fattest knight of the Round Table?”

“Sir Cumference!”

The court has heard this joke at least a half-dozen times in rehearsal, and they burst into laughter on cue. It also earns titters from a few fairgoers around them.

“Grammercy, grammercy,” Poots bows.

The Queen throws chocolate coins at him. “More, if you please, good fool. More!”

Poots is always glad to oblige. “Knock-knock, my Queen.”

“Who art there?”

“Cows go, Your Majesty.”

“Cows go who?”

“Nay, M’am, cows go _moo!_ ”

The court hasn’t heard this one before, and their laughter this time is loud and genuine. More people are surrounding them, and Poots pulls out a lute and serenades the monarch and her court.

Lady Roseamund beams with pride at Poots, who's finally learned how to channel his "a bit much" performance instincts; _He’s going to be a huge success in New York City, I know it!_ She touches a hand to her chest, glad for this little break. The corset, though not particularly restrictive, still leaves her a bit short of breath.


	2. TWO

“I’ll catch y’all later,” Zeke says after about a half-hour of feeling increasingly like a third wheel, sweltering in the heat of Tina’s obvious disapproval.

“Oh. Well, sure. I’m…I’m sure we’ll see you around the Faire.” Bob turns to Tina and Louise. “You don’t have to hang out with your old man all day, you can go off too, you know.”

“Nay, good father,” Tina says. “Thou promised to watch the glass blowers with me.”

Bob beams at his oldest daughter, while Louise makes a face.

Zeke catches Louise’s eye and crinkles his nose. Louise rolls her eyes but crinkles her nose back, their private, silent _I love you_.

“Zeke.” Tina drawls her dismissal in the same irritated tone she used as a teen.

He bows. “Mistress Jane.”

* * * * *

Zeke isn’t sure how he’s going to fill the time until the wedding, but he knows he can’t do it around Tina anymore. He likes her, and he understands that it’s awkward for her, knowing what she knows about him and her baby sister, but Zeke refuses to allow her chill to ruin the day for him. Maybe it’s best if he and Louise don’t spend too much time together in front of her father, anyway. It’s becoming harder and harder to hide his feelings, especially as Louise has become more comfortable expressing her love for him.

He steps off to the side of the road, out of the crowd’s way, and awkwardly pulls his phone out of the leather pouch strapped to his belt. Like Tina, he also borrowed clothes for the Faire. One of his buddies up north loves this shit, so Zeke bartered some flower for the loan of a green tunic, trimmed with Celtic embroidery, an o-ring belt with a long tail, and the pouch along with a wooden tankard and tankard strap. Zeke finished off his look with dark-wash jeans and motorcycle boots. He knows it’s not technically correct, but it looks good and is comfortable, and that’s what counts.

He unlocks his phone—it’s only 11:00, dang it—and sees there’s a message from Raul: _She said yess!_

“Well hot damn!” Zeke mutters with a grin. Not that he’s surprised; Raul and Mindy have barely spent a day apart since they started seeing each other a year ago. It might be fast to some people, but they’ve met each other’s families, Raul—like Zeke—is due to graduate school next month, and now that her pregnancy is starting to show, Mindy really can’t strip anymore. Zeke doesn’t think a baby automatically calls for a wedding; he saw how badly that can go with his own parents. Still, a baby makes a woman family, and he thinks it’s important for a man to step up and take care of his family. He’s pleased that his friend feels the same way.

Zeke wonders if they’ll hold the wedding here, on the mainland, or go to Puerto Rico. He hopes it will be in New Jersey. Certain he’ll be invited, he smiles to himself, thinking how nice it will be to finally introduce Louise to all his school friends, then he freezes, his heart sinking: surely Lana will be invited to the festivities too. He hasn’t seen or heard from her since that disastrous night at the bar last November.

Zeke pushes the discomfort down. That’s a later issue, and he isn’t one to borrow trouble. Today is Jane and Jackie’s wedding, not Raul and Mindy’s, and he has nothing to do but enjoy the Faire.

“Hey, Zeke! Over here!” Jimmy Junior, wearing a blue outfit similar to Zeke’s, stands under a tree on the other side of the crowded path and waves a tankard at him.

Zeke rushes over and half-crushes his friend in a bear hug, scrubbing his head with an affectionate noogie for old time’s sake. “J-Ju, you ol’ so-n’-so!”

They originally planned to go out drinking the night before, but Jimmy had to bail on him to cover a call-out at his dad’s restaurant. Zeke understands—he’s covered plenty of those too, in his time. Maybe this is better; they can go drink ale at the Pirate’s Cove.

“I heard there’s some cute belly dancers at Falafel on a Waffle,” Jimmy says, smoothing his hair. “Let’s get some hummus and watch the show.”

“Sure thing,” Zeke agrees, always down to watch pretty girls dance for him—he’s spoken for, he ain’t dead. He shakes his empty tankard. “But first…”

* * * * *

Louise weaves her way through the crowd, a scowl on her face. She would have _liked_ to enjoy some time with Zeke, Dad, and Tina, but her older sister insisted on being a boob-punch and drove Zeke away with her huffing and grunting and dirty looks. What’s her problem? Zeke kept his word, always finding an excuse to not work for the Belchers, and they aren’t hanging all over each other. Mom and Dad don’t suspect a thing, and Louise figures if they’ve made it this far, they’ll make it the next three months, so long as idiots like Tina just play it cool.

Daffie and Saffie, their coily hair twisted into French braids, each carrying a giant forked pole laden with big soft pretzels, stand on the other side of the path across from To the Point Weaponry. Ollie and Andy are with them, both in costume, both obviously flirting with the girls. Rudy hands the girls some money, while Jessica, her head encircled with a garland of flowers, munches on a pretzel. 

“Hi, Louise,” the group sing-songs in unison, as they usually do.

“Hi, idiots,” she greets them with a smile. “Wait, what are you doing selling pretzels? Isn’t your dad vending here?” She’s sure she saw Huck standing outside of Mystik Treasures’ tent, speaking earnestly to Jessica's parents, Dr. Mom and Dr. Dad.

The girls nod in unison. Saffie, as usual, answers for them both. “Dad got some help for the weekend, so we opened our own little business.”

“Twizted Sizters Pretzels!” Ollie declares proudly. “Show them your banners!”

The twins turn their backs and wiggle their butts, showing Louise the banners they pinned to their waists.

“We helped with the lettering,” Andy tells her.

"The pretzels are pretty good," Jessica nods. 

"You enjoy," Rudy and Louise say in unison. 

Jessica rolls her eyes with a smile; Louise typically won't eat things like this because they're too carb-heavy, and Rudy can't, because gluten makes him gassy.

“Nice set-up you two have here," Louise frowns, regretting that she had to let a great money-making opportunity pass her by. She’s already spread too thin as it is with the restaurant and Fishoeder business, especially since she can’t hold any product at home. Mort’s been incredibly helpful, and they’ve worked out a system so she can grab supplies from him when she needs to, but it’s a pain in the ass, and annoying on principle, too. Plus, she’s still a student, and she’s taking two classes for college credit, English 102 and Intermediate Algebra. As glad as she is to get the stupid prerequisites out of the way as fast as possible, she can’t deny that it’s a struggle to keep all the balls in the air.

Louise shakes her head. She promised herself she’d spend this weekend enjoying herself. She’s earned it, after finishing mid-terms just this past Thursday. It will be a pleasant mini-vacation, and she intends to spend as much of it as she can with Zeke. He has to go back up north Sunday night, and she’ll spend the rest of her break working at the restaurant and writing a dumb essay about something interesting she saw at the Faire.

* * * * *

Zeke and Jimmy Junior, balancing mugs of ale in one hand and plates of Middle Eastern nibbles in the other, look around the seating area for somewhere to eat. It’s nearing lunchtime, and the place is filling up fast. Several people are picnicking on the bright carpets, reclining on the squishy pillows provided, while others take seats at the tables under the trees.

“Zeke! Jimmy Junior! Over here!”

Zeke grins. There’s Tammy at one of the tables, Jocelyn next to her. Tammy waves and squeals, while Jocelyn stares at her chicken kabob.

“C’mon, J-Ju!” Zeke hears his friend mumbling something behind him, but Zeke, eager as always to see old friends, doesn’t pay him much mind. He hasn’t seen either girl in _ages!_

Tammy greets them both with hugs. “You’re the best things to happen to me all week,” she declares.

Zeke knows her too well to take that as a great compliment, but it’s been over a year since they’ve talked, so he overlooks it. “Ya look good, Tam,” he says, and he means it. He always thought she was a cute girl—it’s a shame he was so drunk when they hooked up the night of junior prom, he knows that wasn’t his best work—and she’s even prettier now that she’s dyed her hair a more natural caramel color, and toned down the eye shadow. 

“Tammy’s just mad because her parents wouldn’t pay for her to go to Hawaii with the rest of her sorority,” Jocelyn drawls in her unchanged Valley Girl accent.

“Oh my God, Jocelyn,” Tammy glowers at her friend. “Don’t tell me you’re on _their_ side.”

“Why didn’t you get a job and pay for it yourself?” Jimmy asks.

She rolls her eyes. “I _tried_ to get a job. But people are jerks! What was I supposed to do, just smile and say nothing while this woman treated me like I’m stupid because I couldn’t remember that she wanted soy milk, not coconut milk? _Of course_ I had to say something in my defense! My boss was an idiot for letting me go—his loss, not mine.”

Zeke’s spent far too much time in low-paying food service jobs to not feel a little sympathy, both for Tammy and the supervisor who fired her. “Well, it’s nice to see ya again. You too, pretty mamma,” he smiles gently at Jocelyn.

Tammy and J-Ju gripe about stupid customers being stupid, giving Zeke and Jocelyn time to catch up. He’s glad; Zeke always liked Jocelyn more than Tammy, maybe because he lusted after her far less, and never slept with her—she might be the only girl _friend_ he has. He’s particularly inclined to be kind to her now, his eyes instinctively drifting down to her rounded belly.

Tall, her ponytail moved to the back of her head, Jocelyn is much the same as she ever was, except, of course, that she’s now four months pregnant. She mentioned it briefly on Facebook, and last week posted an ultrasound, announcing that she’s carrying a girl. Squinting at the blurry picture, Zeke could see no more evidence of the child’s gender than he can of the father’s presence in her life, but he’s willing to take Jocelyn’s word for it.

“Let’s sit over there!” Tammy cries, pointing to a carpeted area that just opened up.

“I’m not so comfortable on the ground right now,” Jocelyn says.

“Sounds good, Tammy,” Jimmy agrees.

“This is better for my back,” Zeke declares, giving J-Ju a look.

Tammy, frowning now that a quicker group has swooped up the spot, turns to roll her eyes at her friend. “We’d help you back up, jeez!”

Conversation is brisk as the four friends catch up. Tammy, who’s working on a journalism degree in Maine, is clearly more interested in whatever fundraiser her sorority is involved with than her education. J-Ju is determined to finish his associates in theater and move as quickly as he can to New York “ _no matter what_ ,” he emphasizes. Jocelyn seems to have run through several potential careers, but is now half-heartedly working on an administrative assistant certificate.

Zeke’s gaze drifts over to the dancers. One, a tall, striking woman with long dark hair and strong features (he thinks she’s Italian, or maybe Greek, he’s not sure) puts him in mind of what Louise might look like in ten or fifteen years. They’re all wearing colorful two-piece outfits, with coin bras and tasseled belts. He wonders what a get-up like that costs, and would Louise wear it for him? Granted, she’s not a great dancer, but that’s not really the point; Louise, his own private harem girl, putting on a show just for him…now _there’s_ a pleasant thought!

Manicured fingers click in front of his face. “Hey, Spacey Stacy, _hellooooo!_ ”

Zeke blinks, realizes that Tammy’s been trying to get his attention. “What’s yer damage, Tam?”

“I’ve been _trying_ to get your _attention_ ,” she smiles, batting her eyes. “It’s not nice to stare at other women when you have two ladies next to you.”

Zeke flushes; any accusation of ungentlemanly behavior towards ladies cuts deep. “Sorry Tammy, Jocelyn.”

Jocelyn shakes her head. “No prob—“

“Okay, fine.” Tammy says briskly. Her eyes flutter up and down his body. “I thought maybe you and me could go on the camel ride. Jimmy won’t mind keeping Jocelyn company, since she can’t go.”

Jimmy’s eyes are wide. “Oh! Oh no, I—“

Zeke glances at his phone; it’s 12:40! Where’s the time gone? “Shit—‘scuse me, ladies—I’m almost late! I gotta weddin’ to git to!”

Zeke leaps up and gathers his things. “See all y’all later!”

“I’ll definitely catch _you_ later,” Tammy murmurs quietly as he runs off.

* * * * *

Louise frowns at herself in the mirror, swishing her skirts around her legs. “Well, if the brides are okay with it, I’m not going to complain.”

Barbara, proprietor of Gentle’s Rentals, smiles with relief. One of the skirts the party reserved was stained beyond salvaging on the trip east, and it’s too late to whip up a new one. Naturally, that skirt was intended for the tall girl with who projects an aggressive, don’t-fuck-with-me air even when she smiles.

“Sorry, baby,” Marshmallow pats her shoulder.

Louise shrugs. Like the other women, she’s wearing a white, lacy peasant blouse, white, tiered skirt, and a surprisingly comfortable, cream-colored corset. The corset’s shape is maintained by an interior skeleton of plastic boning, so it’s basically a structured, lace-up vest, unlike the metal-boned armor Tina’s wearing. The replacement skirt is too short for Louise and lands at an awkward length, so Barbara gave her a white petticoat to make up for the missing inches. A garland of orange flowers encircles her head in lieu of a bouquet.

“It works,” Louise says. Actually, she’s rather pleased with her own reflection; this get-up isn’t half as silly as she feared it would be. Of course, given everything that’s gone on to make this wedding happen, she wouldn’t dare complain even if she looked foolish.

Jackie and Jane agreed that they wanted to get married, but the details, the where, when, and how, eluded them for over a year. Jackie would have been fine with a quick courthouse ceremony, but that wasn’t festive enough for Jane. Jane suggested a destination wedding, but Jackie was adamant that, if they were going to do a “shing-ding,” they would do something in town. Then they were slowed down by job concerns; it took Jane a while to find a position she liked, but now she’s happily settled as a nurse at The Elegant Doily Retirement Home, and Jackie decided to retire from stripping.

_“I’m too old and too gay for that shit anymore,” she told Louise one evening at an invitation mailing party at Mudflap’s a few month’s back._

_Jackie glanced over at her fiancé, pulling Chinese delivery boxes out of a bag. “And maybe it ain’t right, being married and around all those nekkid women. I mean, I_ _wouldn’t do anything,” she added quickly, “but I wouldn’t like it either, if I was in her shoes.”_

Armed with little more than a GED and a will to succeed, Jackie found the job market a harsh place for a 30-year-old former stripper accustomed to making her own hours. So she and Dirty Jen, backed by Mr. Fischoeder, opened Seymour’s Bay’s first medical marijuana dispensary, Dreamy Skies, next door to Bob’s Burgers.

* * * * *

Bob can’t deny that he’s glad that it’s just him and Tina walking the Faire now, since Zeke, then Louise, left for the wedding. Part of him would like to go to the ceremony too—he enjoys weddings more than he’s willing to admit—but he understands that the guest list is pretty small, family and the closest of friends. Though he likes the brides well enough, he’s not entirely comfortable with the fact that Louise has so many much-older friends. But then, his daughter is almost eighteen, and she’s never been a normal child. He figures she must have grown close to the couple while tutoring Sidecar at Mudflap and Critter’s house. After all, Jackie is Mudflap’s sister, she must be over a lot.

At least, he hopes that’s the connection, and not Jackie’s neighboring dispensary. As far as he can tell, Louise has kept her word and stopped dealing and using, but he knows his youngest daughter too well to trust outward appearances. Having a dispensary next door has helped the restaurant—people like to buy take out before the go home and toke up—but it makes him a bit nervous, given Louise’s history. Still, Jackie and her business partner, Dirty Jen, seem rough but honest, and he’s never seen Louise near their door. Surely such a responsible girl, who’s on the honor roll and does so much work for the restaurant, has moved past that phase. Right?

Bob and Tina are at the back of the crowd in front of A Tale of Sand and Fire, watching a glass-blowing demo. He glances over at Tina, admiring her profile. She’s grown to be such a smart, pretty young woman! He can scarcely believe the quiet, awkward little girl with the thick glasses and butt obsession has transformed into an adult confident enough to move across the sea to finish her studies. His eyes fill with tears, as they often do when he thinks about the future; she’ll leave the country by the end of May, her program too demanding to allow her to stay for her sister’s birthday and graduation. Who knows when he’ll see Tina again?

The children are growing up so fast! Tina’s leaving for England, Gene’s moving to New York to live with friends he met through Michael and pursue his career, and Louise will officially launch into adulthood –all within three months. This might be the very last weekend he has all his children at home together as kids.

Tina turns and looks at him with glistening eyes. She takes his hand and squeezes it.


	3. THREE

Poots the Fool, reveling in his half-hour break, jingles his way over to Jerky for You to meet his gaming group as planned. Gene has to admit it, he’s a little jealous of his friends; this is a great place to play Dungeons and Dragons. That’s the only drawback of working the Faire, he can’t enjoy it as both a performer _and_ as a patron. Still, he’s earning a little money—not just chocolate coins—getting school credit, and adding experience to his resume. He waves wildly at Alex Papasian, who’s channeling Gandolf the Grey, albeit Gandolf with aviator frame glasses. Beside him, Peter Pescadero, the group’s bard, digs into a paper bag. He’s wearing a floppy hat with a big white plume, a poofy shirt, tights, and short breeches. Courtney Wheeler, her hair twisted into a braid swung over her shoulder, is clad in a noisy mish-mash of plastic and leather armor over a peasant’s tunic and trousers.

“Hail, good fool!” Alex gestures to him with a tall wooden staff, newly acquired from the woodworker at the other end of the festival.

Gene bows.

“Want some jerky?” Courtney holds out a fistful of dried meat. “I have buffalo, Peter the Bard has moose.”

“Moose? Moose?”

“I like a moose,” Alex says, holding out his hand for a piece of jerky.

Peter passes around the bag. “I’ve never had anything quite like a moose,” he shrugs, his fluttery voice not much deeper than it was when they were children.

The quartet snort with laughter. Last gaming session, in anticipation of the Faire, they listened to Three Pints Gone’s rendition of “The Moose Song” while sharing a bottle of whiskey Courtney snagged from her dad.

“It really _is_ good.” Gene decides he needs to buy some later.

Courtney nods. “He said he even has ostrich, but I didn’t try it.”

Alex shakes his head in wonderment. “Is there any kind of meat that man _can’t_ jerk?”

It takes a moment for Alex to realize why his friends bust up laughing again.

* * * * *

Mistress Jane, sitting on a bench in a patch of sunshine and munching steak on a stick, is very pleased with herself and her surroundings. She's among about a half-dozen people listening to Lady Agnes, Mistress of the Queen’s Wardrobe, and her assistant, Lady Katherine, discuss the details of everyday clothing in Elizabethan England. She’s met them both before through Gene as Lydia and her wife, Christy, Head and Assistant of Costumes at Warf Arts Center. _This_ is what Tina was looking for at the Faire, actual history, not fairies and goblins and fantasy like that! Sadly, it took her a while to find it.

Having left her father in the company of Theodore the Craftsman, Mistress Jane daintily picked her way across the dusty faire, hungry for both food and intellectual stimulation. She was astonished to discover it was easier to properly feed her mind than her belly. Sniffing at the Monty Python knights trotting by on invisible horses and trailed by a squire clacking coconut shells together, Mistress Jane finally found a group of madrigal singers. She liked them so much she bought their CD, sold on their rendition of “Pastime With Good Company,” a famous song actually composed by King Henry VIII himself. Consulting her program, she saw that she had time to find food before the costume presentation, and she set out to find something acceptable.

She considered her map. Frier’s Fried Fantasy was a total non-starter. It’s just the regular fried food booth given a medieval polish; Tina didn’t go through the trouble of borrowing and transporting a dress and feast gear across the country so she could dump fried Oreos and fried Kool-Aid balls or chicken fried bacon in a wooden trencher. The Pirate’s Cove was too crowded, and, though The Cabin Boy’s Tossed Fruit Salad made her chuckle, she just _couldn’t_ with the Man-O’-War ships, better known as loaded potato skins. She doesn’t particularly like Middle Eastern food, and there was no way she’d stop at Jimmy Pesto’s Pizza and Italian Delights. That left a variety of nibbles, such as The Royal Nutsack, and Codpiece’s Pickles.

Half-starved, she settled on Ramrod Meats; they serve all sorts of meats on a stick, that’s period enough, right? Mistress Jane poured a bottle of water into her goblet, and, smugly convinced that only _she_ is in the true spirit of the event, watched Goths saunter by on old-school stacked sole booths.

Having noted the websites Ladies Agnes and Katherine recommended for further research, Mistress Jane is packing up her feast gear when a shrill, modern voice cuts through her musings.

“Oh my God, _Tina_ , how _are_ you?”

Tina looks up, her mind switching gears from farthingales to the old friends in front of her.

“Greetings, Tammy. Jocelyn. Good day, Jimmy Junior.”

Jocelyn takes in her garb with a confused expression. “Are you in a play?”

“No,” Tina responds gravely, wiping her fingers on the cloth napkin and tucking it into her feast basket. “I’m Mistress Jane, a middle-class woman from—“

“Yeah-yeah-yeah,” Tammy waves her hand. “Come join us!”

Jocelyn and Jimmy Junior look at her earnestly, and Mistress Jane can’t say no. She hasn’t seen them in over a year, Tammy is being almost friendly, and as for Jimmy Junior…yeah, he’s a jerk, but he still has _that butt_.

* * * * *

After buying souvenir tankards, Bob and Teddy naturally had to test them out, so they bought a couple rounds of mead. Finding themselves a bit drunk, the next logical thing to do was eat something to absorb all that alcohol. Bob isn’t sure at what point he acquired a new belt and tankard strap—unnecessary, since he plans to keep his drinking vessel full the entire day—but man, he didn’t know how well they ate back in old times! He and Teddy gathered a small feast of goodies together to enjoy under the Pirate’s Cove pavilion

“I thought it was all bread and porridge and slop, but this stuff’s _amazing_!” Bob crows, stuffing the last ball of fried jelly beans into his mouth.

“They didn’t eat fried stuff, Bob,” Teddy slurs slightly, waving a chicken wing coated with buffalo sauce at him. “Dragon wings! It was dragon wings and mead!”

“Uh-uh! My daughter’s an expert, and she said—what’d she say? Yeah, she said you could only serve period fare here! That’s why I don’t have a booth. That, and Linda wouldn’t let me.”

Teddy frowns. Tina’s smart, and he doesn’t want to argue with Bob, but that doesn’t sound quite right to him. “Well, this is a renaissance _themed_ festival, not an actual reenactment, Bob. I think they make, uh, allowances.”

“No! My T-Tina,” he hiccups slightly, “she’s been shtudying England, so she doesn’t get culture shock when she moves there.” Bob’s face falls. “My baby girl is leaving me Teddy, and she won’ be my baby anymore.”

There’s a lot Teddy could say to that. Such as, maybe boning up on current events, like that Brexit thing, rather than studying history and watching old British TV shows would be better preparation for her move. Or maybe that it’s his _other_ baby girl he should keep an eye on; earlier in the day Teddy caught a _look_ flash between Louise and Zeke that made his hackles rise.

“Yeah Bob, I was thinking ab-about that. Babies. Stuff they do, an’—“

“Woah! What’s _that_?”

Bob’s on his feet and staggering over to a trio performing under a small grove of trees. Teddy has a higher tolerance than Bob, so he’s somewhat soberer than his friend, and he grabs their tankards and follows.

Bob blinks in astonishment at the sight before him; three young…people? Can he call them that? A pretty fairy with long flaming hair and breasts pushed high by her corset, a satyr—an actual satyr, with horns and everything—hairy and handsome, and a dark, demon-like creature, complete with wings, juggle what looks like soap bubbles glistening in the light. Someone in the audience makes reference to "contact juggling," but it looks like pure sorcery to Bob.

Concerns for his daughter forgotten, Bob watches with delighted, open-mouthed astonishment as the clear balls twist and spin in their fingers, one hand to the other, one performer to the other. Overhead, under the leg, their bodies undulating, writhing as they sing:

“ _Are you? Are you? Coming to the tree?_ ” The men intone.

The young fairy answers, “ _Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme…_ ”

Bob recognizes the first line instantly. Tina and Louise—mostly Tina—went through a _Hunger Games_ phase years ago. Tina loved the romance, Louise cheered on the violence, and, though Tina could never talk her sister into reading the books, they enjoyed watching the movies repeatedly together. He would have never mashed “The Hanging Tree” and “Scarborough Faire” into one mega-song, but the haunting lyrics pair well.

More and more people crowd around to watch. A little girl of perhaps ten, wearing a pink princess dress and rose garland in her hair, steps forward. With a nod of encouragement from the satyr, she begins to beat a gentle rhythm on a frame drum. The effect is beautiful, haunting.

“ _A medieval moment_ ,” Bob breathes. Tina told him about them, those shards of time where you can totally suspend disbelief, and truly feel transported back to the past. Bob, tipsy, mesmerized by the music, the choreography, the dazzle and flash of the balls dancing in the performer’s fingers, forgets all else, and for him, the magic of the Renaissance Faire is _real_.


	4. FOUR

Zeke makes it with ten minutes to spare. Currently seated next to Sidecar, who’s playing with a newly acquired plastic sword, Zeke takes in the scene. It’s a perfect day for a wedding; sunny without being glaring, warm without being oppressive. A gentle breeze makes the trees rustle, the branches dance over their heads. The grotto is very small, allowing maybe thirty people to attend the ceremony, fifteen or so chairs on each side of the stone path that leads up to the alter, and they're at capacity, full of the family and friends of both brides. Next to the pulpit is a little table with two pitchers and a single, shining cup. The entire area is decorated with flowers and medieval banners. The musicians, two men in kilts and two women, also in Scottish dress, stand off to the side playing quietly on lute and drum, the bagpipes silent for the time being.

The music changes, takes shape into a song lead by the men; clearly, the ceremony is about to begin.

“ _Gentlemen it is me duty  
To inform you of one beauty  
Though I'd ask of you a favour  
Not to seek her for a while  
Though I own she is a creature  
Of character and feature  
No words can paint the picture  
Of the Queen of all Argyll_”

Critter, recently ordained by an online site so he can officiate the ceremony, leads the procession. Zeke doesn’t doubt that Tina would pick apart his costume, but Zeke thinks Critter looks like a proper Viking in leather and fur and a horned helmet.

“ _And if you could have seen her there  
Boys, if you had just been there  
The swan was in her movements  
And the marvel in her smile  
All the roses in the garden  
They bow and ask her pardon  
For not one could match the beauty  
Of the Queen of all Argyll_”

The attendants begin filing down the aisle from tallest to shortest, and each woman’s garland represents a color of the rainbow. Marshmallow leads the way. Next is Louise, followed by Mudflap. Art the Artist, the only male attendant, wears a white poofy shirt, baggy, cream-colored trousers, and garland of greenery. Dirty Jen is last, bluebells in her bright red hair.

But wait! Red, orange, yellow, green, blue—where’s indigo and violet?

Eight members of the One-Eyed Snakes take up position, four on each side of the aisle, an honor guard also in Viking kit. Zeke notices the boutonniere of violets on Critter’s fur vest, the indigo flowers on the ‘Snake’s horned helmets.

“ _So my lads I needs must leave you  
My intentions no' to grieve you  
Nor indeed would I deceive you  
Oh I'll see you in a while  
I must find some way to gain her  
To court her and attain her  
I fear my heart's in danger  
From the Queen of all Argyll_”

Zeke is singing the chorus along with everyone else, his eyes on Louise. She glances over at him and scrunches her nose in a quick little bunny wiggle. He crinkles back at her, telling her with his eyes how beautiful she is, that she’s _his_ Queen of all Argyll. Louise fails to suppress a smile as she turns to face Critter.

The music changes, and the bridal party turn their attention to the back of the grotto. Everyone stands, knowing that the brides are about to enter.

The piper does his best to play what Zeke assumes is the wedding march, but it sounds strange on bagpipes, and the area is too small for such a loud instrument so the music echoes badly. The brides, entering arm-in-arm, don’t seem to notice or care. The honor guards draw swords and hold them high over the women’s heads.

Jane looks like a blonde Juliet in a white Italian Renaissance gown, a jeweled cap pinned to her curly hair. Jane peeps shyly up at her bride-to-be, happy tears brimming in her eyes, while Jackie can’t stop grinning proudly at the woman on her arm. Jackie is dressed in an all-white pirate outfit, complete with a big white tricorn hat, tight white trousers tucked into black boots, and a long, sweeping frock coat heavy with gold braiding and shining buttons—a compromise, as she refused to wear a dress.

The ladies stop at the alter and look expectantly up at Critter. Clearing his throat, he reaches into his vest, takes out a set of note cards and—to everyone’s surprise—a pair of reading glasses. He glances over at Mudflap, who smiles encouragingly at him. Critter settles the glasses on his nose and glowers at the congregation, as if _daring_ someone to laugh at him.

“Lords, Ladies, and Others, welcome. We’ve come here today to celebrate the weddin’ of Jane and Jackie, to offer love and support to this union, to witness their public vow to spend the rest of their lives together. It’s important to them to be surrounded by the people who mean so much to them, and they’re grateful all y’all are here. They ask for your blessin’, your support, and your encouragement as they begin the most challengin’—but also the most rewardin’—of human relationships.”

There’s a clacking noise next to Zeke. He gives Sidecar the stink-eye, and the boy pouts and stops slapping his sword against the seat of his chair. Grandma June would be proud; she gave Zeke that look almost weekly in church, and at every family wedding until he was in his teens.

“Over the course of their relationship, Jane and Jackie have developed a strong bond based on shared values and mut'al respect. With a solid foundation to grow from, they’ve made the decision to take the oath of marriage and spend the rest of their lives together.” Critter smiles at the brides.

Zeke tunes out a bit, as Critter goes on about the meaning of marriage; he’s attended too many of the things to pay much mind, and besides, it’s the vows that count. His eyes travel to the attendants. Art winks at his boyfriend, a tall man in the third row wearing a dashing Musketeers hat with a big blue feather that dances in the wind. Louise, he notices, doesn’t seem to quite know what to do with her hands, since she doesn’t have a bouquet to occupy them. She keeps them loosely clasped in front of her, playing a bit with her fingers, occasionally reaching up and tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

“Jane and Jackie, I invite you to express yer sacred vows to one another. Please face each other as you declare these vows in the presence of yer family and friends. Jane, you may go first.”

The brides turn and clasp their shaking hands together. Jackie’s grin is more of a grimace at this point, and Zeke is certain she’s clenching her teeth against tears.

Jane clears her throat, and, though her eyes are shining, her voice is clear and calm. “Jackie, I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to keep you by my side through good times and bad, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine, and I vow to stay true to you, honor you, and love you for the rest of my days, until death do us part.”

_I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine._

Zeke has heard the phrase a thousand times—Grandma June was very fond of the Song of Songs—but the words take on new meaning as they ring and reverberate in his mind, crash through his rib cage and burn into his heart.

His eyes swivel to Louise. She’s facing Jane and Jackie with a soft, benevolent smile, her eyes slightly misty with the beauty of the moment. Zeke has a sudden vision of Louise, a bit older, wearing a different white dress, her face glowing with joy as he slips a gold band onto her long finger.

_I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine._

Zeke’s mouth pops open slightly, and he forgets to breathe. Deep in his heart, where there are no lies, only the simple truths of life, he knows— _he knows_ —just as he knows that fire is hot and water is wet, that he is looking at the face of the woman he’s going to marry.

_I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "Queen of All Argyll," by Silly Wizard. Also, I consulted Universal Live Church (ULC.org) to write the vows.
> 
> I know this chapter is short, but don't worry, there's longer and more intense ones in the works. All things considered, I thought it was best to treat this scene as a stand-alone.


	5. FIVE

Tammy grabs Tina’s arm. “Tina, look, it’s Legolas!”

Mistress Jane sighs. She’s long since given up trying to explain the concept of personas to her friends; Jocelyn can’t understand it, and Tammy and Jimmy Junior won’t, so it’s a lost cause. Still, walking with them is more fun than exploring the Faire alone—though it was pretty embarrassing the way Jocelyn asked the inhabitants of the Fairy Cove if they were actual fairies—so Tina holds her parasol high, her arm tucked into Jimmy Junior’s, and accepts what enjoyment she can get. Jimmy Junior’s been _amazing_ today; he’s never been so courteous, so gentlemanly before! He’s held her arm the entire time, called her m’lady repeatedly, and even bought her a rose from Millie, the traveling rose seller. (“Is Louise here? Tell her I said _hiiiiii!_ ”) It occurs to Tina that she’ll be home long enough for a last fling with Jimmy Junior, and, looking up into his honey brown eyes, she resolves _that butt_ will finally be hers.

Mistress Jane’s gaze follows Tammy’s pointer finger. Standing tall and proud, Legolas is surrounded by a semi-circle of picture-taking admirers, including Randy, one of the official Faire photographers who, thanks to a trust fund—a lucky baby ducky, as it were—can spend his time on low-paying passion projects such as this one. She squints; there’s something familiar about Legolas, the height, the strong, lean build, the golden blonde hair spilling over his shoulders surrounding a handsome, smug face…

“It’s Logan,” Tina sighs.

“No, it’s Legolas,” Tammy assures her with finality. “You know, from the _Lord of the Rings_ movies? Even _I_ know that, and I’m not an ork dork or whatever.”

“It’s—yeah, I know, Tammy. I mean, the guy playing Legolas is Logan Bush. He worked for my family a while back.”

Tina’s not sure that’s the best way to describe Logan, but it works for the moment. She remembers him at her parent’s party, the Armani Viking giving her little sister’s backside an appreciative once-over before he realized whom he was ogling. His name has come up between them occasionally, and now Tina realizes, with a sick feeling in her belly, that Louise’s stance on him has inexplicably softened. Sure, she still refers to him as “Dingleberry” and calls him an idiot, but she calls everyone an idiot, and says Dingleberry as neutrally as she’d call him by his true name. _Good God, is Louise screwing him too?_ Tina could deal with Louise and Zeke while she was out of town—out of sight is out of mind, and all that—but it’s been painful to watch them these last two days, sending private little signals to each other, treating Mom and Dad like rubes. Tina’s not sure she can stay silent if Louise and Logan are also a thing!

Tammy grabs her wrist in one hand, Jocelyn’s in the other, and drags the group towards him. “Come on, Tina, introduce us to the blond hottie with the smokin’ body!”

Logan is in his element. A long-time Tolkien fan, he’s spent a lot of time and money recreating Legolas’s look from the movies. He does it partly for fun, partly for the ladies, and partly because it gives him more opportunities to show off his stunningly good looks. He’s modeled for art and photography friends before, and was recently featured in Trenton’s first responder calendar.

Logan spots Tina, flushed and embarrassed, being dragged over to him by a hard-faced girl, trailed by a tall blonde pregnant woman and one of the Pesto boys. He reads the situation easily, and decides to throw the oldest Belcher girl a bone.

“M’lady,” he bows, flashing Tina a brilliant smile.

“ _Uh…_ ”

Randy spots a great photo in the making.

“Let me take a picture of the two of you for the Faire,” he demands, pointing to the ID he has clipped to his collar.

“ _Uhhh…_ ”

“Of course,” Logan says, and holds out his hand to Tina.

She takes it. He wraps an arm around her waist, while Tina stands stiffly, frozen, uncertain what to do.

“Don’t be shy,” Randy orders. “Put your arm around him!”

Tina shoots a desperate look at her friends. Tammy is pouting, Jimmy Junior is clearly boiling over with jealousy, and Jocelyn is gazing sadly at Jimmy.

Tina turns and looks up into Logan’s stunning dark blue eyes. “Ignore them,” he murmurs.

She relaxes into his embrace, and grins happily for the camera. Tina doesn’t know it, but this photo will be featured on the Faire’s website for years to come.

* * * * *

Louise frowns, batting at the lace on the sleeve she’s pushed up her arm. “I’d do better without all of this.”

“You’re doing great,” Martha enthuses, handing her another hand-ax. “Remember what I told you, it’s technique over strength, be consistent! Step up with your non-dominant foot, axe over your head, and eyes on the prize. You can do it!”

Louise grimaces at the former hermit, taking up a wide, stable stance, and grips the axe in both hands, right over left. “When did you get to be so positive?”

“Once I quit my job and began traveling the ren faire circuit! Everyone loves throwing axes and knives.”

“Speakin’ of, it’s my turn next,” Zeke reminds her.

Louise grunts, holding the axe high over her head. She steps up and throws, imagining that she’s bringing the handle down on the target, and the target, of course, is Zeke’s head. The axe sticks firmly in the third ring.

“It’s this stupid outfit!” Louise insists. “I don’t know how I let you talk me into keeping it for the whole day.”

Zeke hands Martha a five and takes an axe. “Don’t be a sore looser. Besides, ya wanna git yer money’s worth outta the rental, right?”

She narrows her eyes at him, knowing that he used her weakness for money against her; he thinks she looks pretty in this get-up, but Louise thinks she looks like she stepped out of the cover of a 1970’s folk album. “I didn’t loose, that was a warm-up round.”

Martha is distracted giving a quick throwing lesson to more patrons, demonstrating the correct grip and stance, reminding them that they want one good spin before the blade sinks into the target.

Zeke flashes Louise a confident grin, his own competitive drive roused to match hers. “Just keep tellin’ yerself that, babygirl,” he mutters in a low voice, and throws the axe, which hits just short of the bull’s-eye.

* * * * *

Cynthia Bush once told her son in a fit of pique that he should become a _professional_ shit stirrer, since he’s so good at it. Teenage Logan loved the suggestion, and, truth to tell, adult Logan hasn’t really outgrown the idea. Look at the low-key havoc he’s creating now, just by walking the festival with Tina Belcher on his arm!

Careful to always call her Mistress Jane, Logan, inspired by the atmosphere of the Faire, uses all the old-timey courtesies the young woman could wish. She eventually relaxes enough to enjoy it, much to the chagrin of Jimmy Pesto Junior, who is reduced to muttering darkly behind them. Tammy huffs and pouts and makes snippy comments that everyone ignores, while Jocelyn sighs and casts occasional wistful glances at Jimmy Junior. Without saying a word about it, the tall, handsome elf and the pretty Elizabethan woman on his arm take pleasure in the game they’re playing, egging each other on, because Logan can’t help pissing people off on principle, and Tina can’t resist giving J-Ju some healthy competition.

They see Zeke and Louise approaching them, laughing and shoving each other good-naturedly, Louise obviously basking in Zeke’s open adoration. Tina shoots him the dirtiest look imaginable. Zeke understands the warning and tries to bring the shutters down, but it’s hard—it ain’t every day a man realizes he’s met his future wife, after all. He nudges Louise, gesturing to the others, and Louise barks a short laugh, pointing at Logan. “Hey Tina, you got something gross stuck to your sleeve!”

The groups mingle in front of Don’t Dream it, Be it, a small tent dedicated to elf ears, wings of all sorts, and horns.

“It’s Mistress—oh, never mind,” Tina sighs.

Jocelyn frowns slightly at Louise. “Are you in a play too?”

“Sure, sure,” Louise agrees; it’s never worth the trouble to try to have a real conversation with Jocelyn.

“Zeke.”

“Logan.”

The two men size each other up warily. Zeke notes Tina’s hand on his arm; if he’s right about the future, then Tina’s his future sister-in-law. This Logan fella, he rubs Zeke the wrong way—will he have to kick the guy’s ass to defend Tina’s honor?

“Nice work,” Logan says, gesturing to Zeke’s arm.

Zeke blinks confusedly, then remembers that he hasn’t seen Logan since he finished his tattoo. “Thanks.”

Zeke never meant to stop at just a snake coiling around his arm, and now that he’s working more and going out less, he has money to finally complete the full sleeve. There’s a skull wearing a chef’s hat with two knives crossed behind it: a white fish with an eye patch: a red dragon, a foaming stein of beer, and a triskele, for his Welsh, German, and Irish heritage: a pink camellia, Alabama’s state flower, with the years of Grandma June’s birth and death. But he's proudest of his most painful tattoo, a pot leaf on his inner bicep, with two pink bunny ears poking out from behind.

“It’s super cool.” Tammy, constitutionally incapable of being ignored, interjects with a broad, flirtatious smile.

Bemused, Zeke thanks her somewhat absently. Louise takes a half-step closer to him. “Cool? It’s totally bad-ass.”

“Hey Tina, they have all sorts of different ears here. Do you think I should get some?” Jimmy Junior tries to drag Tina away, but she stays firmly planted at Logan’s side.

Louise points to the big demo board, where they show the different sizes available. “Those, on the far right.”

They’re long and sweeping, far larger than Logan’s, attention-seeking, show-off ears, the kind of ears only someone who has to compensate for something would buy, the nerdy equivalent of hanging plastic testicles from the rear hitch of a pick-up truck. Logan catches her eye and knows _exactly_ where she’s going with this. It’s a struggle, but he suppresses a laugh. “Yeah, I think they’re exactly right for you.”

“I like your ears the way they are, Jimmy,” Jocelyn pipes up.

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Jocelyn, I asked Tina.”

Jimmy’s tone is neutral, matter-of-fact, and Jocelyn deflates under the weight of his brusque dismissal.

Zeke grimaces. He hooks an arm around J-Ju’s shoulder. “Let’s go take a look,” he says, determined to have a private word with his friend, as well as get away from that Logan guy before he does something stupid. He hates that he doesn’t get the joke Louise and Logan share, resents the mean-funny rapport between them, and doesn’t want to stand there and watch some asshole charm his woman.

Forgotten in the background, Tammy catalogues it all, her narrowed, sharp eyes missing none of it; the way Jocelyn’s hand caresses her baby bump as she watches Jimmy Junior retreat, Logan’s expression of profound amusement as Zeke glares at him, or the way Louise rolls her eyes at Zeke as he walks off.

* * * * *

Zeke fiddles with a small pair of demo horns. “Anythin’ ya wanna tell me about, J-Ju?”

“Everything’s fine, Zeke,” Jimmy says, the slight shift of his honey-brown eyes giving away the lie. “You know, work, school, planning to move to New York in a couple of years. Do you think Gene will give me a place to crash?”

Zeke refuses to be misdirected. “I mean, with you an’ Jocelyn. I thought ya liked her.”

“I do, I guess.”

“Then why’dya keep cuttin’ her down like that? Come on, she’s pregnant, giv’er a break.”

“I know she’s pregnant; I was there.”

Zeke blinks a couple of times. “Say _whut?_ ”

Jimmy shrugs, running a finger along the long ears that Louise pointed out to him. “Yeah, Thanksgiving weekend. She came to the restaurant and.." he shrugs. "It was just a hookup, it wasn’t supposed to be serious.”

“That’s…” Zeke’s brain can’t quite process it all at once. He grabs his friend in a bear hug. “Yer gonna have a baby girl!”

“No! Zeke! Stop!” Jimmy protests, squirming out of the smaller man’s heavy grip. “ _She’s_ going to have a baby girl. _I’m_ going to finish school and finally move to New York.”

Zeke shakes his head. “I ain’t sayin’ ya shouldn’t be a dancer—I’m the one who told ya to go to New York first thing, not git experience or whatever in Trenton, remember? But that’s yer _baby_! Ya can’t just drop yer family.”

“But they _aren’t_ my family. She can keep the baby, I don’t care either way. I just don’t think my life should be ruined because of her choice.”

J-Ju’s flat dismissal of Jocelyn and their baby makes Zeke sick to his stomach. How could he have misjudged his old friend like that?

Jimmy misunderstands Zeke’s slack-jawed silence. “Yeah, imagine if you knocked up Louise when you two were talking. You wouldn’t give up your dream of having your own restaurant just because she wanted the baby, would you?”

It occurs to Zeke that if he’s right, and Louise is destined to be his wife, then she’s also the future mother of his children! His heart swells, and he can’t resist congratulating himself for finding the best woman in the world to bear his babies. Not now of course, she’s far too young—truth to tell, he’s not ready yet either. But they will be, eventually. Why, she’s so strong, so clever and beautiful, so ferociously affectionate and protective towards those she loves…he almost envies his prospective kids for having such a mother. He doesn’t know it, but a wide, wondering smile spreads over his face.

Jimmy Junior’s eyes are round with shock. “I didn’t know you two are still horsing around.”

Zeke turns to him with a stubborn set to his jaw. “We ain’t horsin’ around. She’s my girl, an’ if I got her pregnant, I’d take care of ‘em both, no matter what.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t have hit on her if I’d known that.” J-Ju shrugs. “Sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the drama begin!


	6. SIX

Tammy Larson is having the spring break from hell, and she doesn’t care who knows it. Just this morning she made the mistake of checking out her Insta feed, and there they were, her sorority sisters at a luau last night, laughing, drinking exotic beverages from coconut shells, eating roast pig and _poi_. She should be there with them now, learning the hula, enjoying the beaches, preferably with a BFTHI—Boy from the Hawaiian Islands, duh—on her arm! Instead, she’s mired down in this smelly small town at this nerd convention, surrounded by Gothopotamuses and hooker pirates and other carnie rejects. It’s totally not fair, and she’s going to make sure everyone around her pays for it, because it’s all _their_ fault, not _hers!_

First, she wouldn't be in this position at all if her parents weren't so selfish and unreasonable and insisted that she get a job to learn responsibility or whatever. And Tammy _tried_ to earn the money for the trip! But she's just not cut out to be some minimum-wage slave, and there's no way she's going to let some Karen disrespect her over fake milk. So here she is, _trying_ to salvage the week, but nothing's working the way it ought. The mall is super-lame, all her old friends are super-lame, and her attempts to flirt with Logan and Zeke just aren’t working! The last point is the worst; you’d think these hicks would practically fight each other for a chance with a cute, sophisticated woman like her. But _nooooo_ —Logan’s all over _Tina_ , of all people, for some reason, and Zeke is treating her like she’s just a friend. Doesn’t he remember junior prom? That was a fun night, and she bets he’s even more talented now. True, he’s only on the better end of average in the face, but look at that body! He probably bench presses fire engines for fun.

Fortunately, Tammy’s like a bloodhound when it comes to news. Not serious, fourth-estate news, like her boring classmates. No, Tammy has an instinct for relationships, people, gossip—reporters for _TMZ_ and _The Daily Mail_ are her role models—and she’s sniffing out a _big_ load of news.

“So, Jocelyn,” she drawls once Jimmy and Zeke are out of sight. “How are you two doing?”

Jocelyn’s hand caresses her belly. “Oh, we're good. Do you want to feel her kick? She started a couple days ago.”

“Uh, no, that’s weird,” Tammy waves her hand. “I mean, how are you and _Jimmy Junior_ doing?”

Jocelyn’s sigh and downcast eyes confirm Tammy’s suspicions. Inwardly doing a happy dance— _damn_ , she’s good—Tammy presses on. She casts a glance over at Tina and Logan, who still have their arms around each other, and that nasty Louise kid, who keeps making dumb comments about Middle Earth dirt. “I mean, he’s sure into Tina, so I thought—“

“He’s just trying to upset me!” Jocelyn isn’t shouting, but her tone is loud and strident, and carries over to the other three. “Jimmy’s a jerk, and I wish it were anyone else’s baby but his!”

Logan, Tina, and Louise turn to see Jocelyn run off to the porta-potties in tears. Logan appears more startled than curious, but Louise’s eyebrows are somewhere near her hairline, and Tina is pale with shock.

“What?” Tammy snorts. “You knew, right, Tina?”

“J-Jimmy Junior? And Jocelyn?”

Louise steps between Tammy and her sister. “What’s your problem, Tammy?”

“Nothing, because _I’m_ on birth control and _I_ don’t sleep with tatted-up rednecks, _Louise_ ,” she responds blithely, giving Louise a significant look.

Louise has enough presence to maintain a neutral expression, but an angry flush reveals that Tammy’s barb hit home.

“You would if he’d give you a second look.” Louise resists the urge to slap her, instead opting to storm off.

Logan has to hand it to Tammy; she’s an even bigger shit stirrer than he is. He’s almost impressed.

* * * * *

After peeing— _angrily_ —Louise steps up to wash her hands at the outdoor sinks, and finds herself next to Jocelyn. The blonde is sniffling, red-eyed, but she’s trying to regain her composure as she rinses her hands under the thin trickle of tepid water.

“Don’t waste your tears on either of those bitches,” Louise growls, trying to work up some lather with the cheap soap provided.

“It’s not that,” Jocelyn sighs. “It’s just…I always make friends with the wrong people, and I get disappointed. I don’t care if Jimmy Junior wants to be with another girl, because we weren’t really together anyway, but he’s just using Tina to hurt me, and it’s working.”

It’s a remarkably deep insight from a remarkably empty-headed girl, and it’s enough to make Louise pause and give the situation serious consideration. “Um, yeah, it’s a dick move, and I hate that he’s using Tina.”

“Me too!”

Pleased to bond over their mutual dislike for Jimmy Junior and sympathy for Tina, Louise blurts out, “But you guys weren’t dating or anything?”

“No, I was bored and went over to the Pesto’s place for a drink and…” she rubs her belly. “Some Thanksgiving break, right?”

Louise pales, remembering Jimmy Junior staring at her chest, shamelessly flirting with her at the twin’s Black Friday party.

_“If you ever want to party together, I’m down.”_

She knew then that some girls were dumb enough to fall for his game, and here one is before her, evidence of her foolishness growing in her womb. Louise shudders; she really dodged the world’s most dysfunctional bullet. She’d been rightfully grossed out at the time— now she realizes that she was just one sperm away from ruining her entire life!

“So, what’s going on in your world, other than the baby?”

Jocelyn blinks up at her slowly. “Uh, well, I’m like, going to school and stuff, but school’s hard!”

Louise’s smile stiffens; _this_ is why she doesn’t talk much to Jocelyn. Still, she plows ahead. “What are you studying?”

“I want to get an administrative assistant certificate. Did you know you have to type with all your fingers on _both_ hands?”

“What else is giving you trouble?”

“Well…I’m good at workplace communications.”

Louise tries to imagine Jocelyn sending a formal email to a CEO. “Sure. Hey, you know, I’m a pretty good typist, and I do bookkeeping for the restaurant. Maybe I can help you?”

“Why?”

Good question; they aren’t low-key enemies, like Louise and Tammy, but they’ve never been especially friendly, either. Still, the words are out of Louise’s mouth now, and the more she thinks about it, the more she likes the idea.

“Revenge! You’ll get to rub your success in stupid Jimmy Pesto Junior’s face, and I’ll get to help, for Tina’s sake.”

Louise can almost see the gerbil running on the wheel in Jocelyn’s head as she considers the idea. “Okay!”

They exchange numbers and walk back to where they left the others with their heads held high, riding a wave of girl power.

* * * * *

"Stop flirting with my sister, Dingleberry!"

Logan flashes smug grin at Louise as she and Jocelyn approach the group. He tightens his grip on Tina's waist.

Tina shakes her head. "Don't hate the player, hate the game, M'lady."

Logan rolls his eyes, then frowns in the direction of Jimmy Junior and Zeke, who are approaching the group. Jimmy is red-faced, and watches Zeke anxiously as he walks several yards behind his friend. Zeke clomps ahead, fists tight, and glowers at Louise with a hard set to his jaw that makes her stomach drop.

“Hey Louise, ya like knives, right? I want yer ‘pinion about one I saw down yonder,” Zeke tells her with a brittle smile.

“Nah, I’m—“

But Zeke takes her elbow. “We’ll catch y’all at the exit gate.”

Huffing, Louise allows herself to be dragged out of earshot and back behind some trees before she tears her arm out of his grip. “Ow! What the _fuck_ are you—“

“Why the _hell_ didn’t you tell me he hit on ya? I looked like a fuckin’ _fool_ back there, not knowing my friend hit on my girl.” He’s toe-to-toe with her, his face thunderous.

Inwardly, Louise cringes, realizing now that maybe staying mum wasn’t the best idea, that he was bound to find out eventually, and that her months of silence on the issue makes her look guilty. But it’s not fair! She didn’t encourage Jimmy Junior’s advances, they weren’t at all welcome, and she turned him down flat.

As usual, Louise defaults to a good offense being a good defense. “Do you expect me to tell you every time some jackass stares at my tits? Because buddy, I’d report in on the daily!”

“Donchoo hand me that! I ain’t some ape gettin’ mad about a stranger. I looked like an idiot. He’s my _friend_ , Louise! Why the _fuck_ did ya hide that from me?”

“Well _maybe_ I kept quiet because I didn’t want to hurt your _fee-fees_! _Maybe_ I was totally grossed out and didn’t want to think about it! _Maybe_ I knew he was just looking for an easy lay and he didn’t know how close we are and that it _wasn’t really important!_ ” Louise is shouting now, her nose inches from his.

Zeke considers this, cracking his knuckles, thinking it through. Sure, she fucked up, her protection was misplaced...but it was well meant, and actually pretty sweet, considering the source. “Ya wanted to protect my feelins’ by not tellin’ me that one of my oldest friends wanted ta treat my girl like a THOT?”

“Yeah.” Seeing his anger back down, Louise relaxes a little. “I knew you’d kick his ass—and that’d be _hilarious_ —but it would hurt you more than him.”

Zeke glowers at her from under thick brows. “That’s an awful big secret to keep from me, honey. I’dve rather known in the first place.”

“I can see that _now_ ,” she snorts. “I…look, I’m not used to this relationship shit or whatever. I don’t know what the rules are.”

“Me neither,” he admits, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. Sure, he’s had girlfriends before, but they weren’t serious; he was protective of them on principle, not out of deep affection.

“So, what’s the rule? Do we have to tell the other every time someone hits on us?”

He huffs a short laugh. “I just wanna know if it’s someone I know, or am likely to meet. Don’t gotta know all the details, I just don’t wanna git caught out like that again.”

Her expression softens. “Okay. Same for you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Zeke takes her extended hand and, rather than shake it, kisses her rough knuckles. He’s still a little pissed off, his territorial instincts are on high alert, and that, along with the urge to show her how superior he is to J-Ju, sparks something primal within him. He snakes an arm around her and pulls her close. “Don't worry, he won't try that again.”

Louise bites her lip, liking what she sees in his eyes. "Will you kick his ass for me if he does?"

"Hell yeah," he nuzzles her neck. "If yer good, I'll let ya watch. Would you like that, darlin'?"

"What do I get if I'm bad?"

Zeke clamps down on her neck, and Louise groans something affirmative sounding, surrendering to his ministrations. He pushes her backwards into a thick tree trunk with enough force to make her gasp with surprise and delight. He hikes up her skirt, and his fingers are just ready to push beneath her lace underpants when the high, shrill laugh of nearby children breaks the mood, tearing them apart. They’re only about ten yards from the main thoroughfare, just barely screened by trees. She’s surprised nobody stopped to check out all the yelling. “Tonight,” she assures him, settling her clothes into place.

Zeke sighs and adjusts himself; she’s right, this ain’t the time for it, but his urge to make his mark, to show her again why she should only be with him, is strong.

“Remind me to pick up some condoms,” he says, as they turn back to the Faire. She’s offered to buy before, but Zeke reckons it’s a man’s job to take care of it, and Louise never pressed the issue.

“Oh yeah, speaking of which…” she stops and begins picking at the bark on a tree. “I was thinking, um…”

Zeke raises his eyebrows; she’s never expressed a condom preference.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about the future, and…oh my God.” She pinches the bridge of her nose in embarrassment. “Forget it!”

His hand on her arm is gentle this time. “What is it, babygirl?” A thought occurs to him. “Ya know if—if we had an accident, I wouldn’t do ya like J-Ju’s doin’ Jocelyn, right?”

Louise makes a _pift_ sound and waves her hand. "Well of course not, I'd kick your--" She does a double-take. “ _What?_ I wasn’t—wait. You know about that?”

“Yeah, he just told me.” Zeke’s mouth is a flat line of disapproval. “How do _you_ know?”

“ _She_ just told _me_.”

“Oh. Well. I thought ya might be worried, and I’m just sayin’, I take care of my own.”

“I wasn’t thinking about _babies_. God! I was thinking about…never mind.”

Zeke sighs. “Honey, _talk_ to me.”

Louise compulsively picks at the lace on her sleeve. “I-I was thinking that we—” She takes a steadying breath. “Okay. You know how we’ve planned to be exclusive after I turn eighteen, yeah?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, I was thinking that…uh, you know I’m on the pill, right?”

“Uh-huh.” He knows she’s switched meds, but he’s not entirely sure what she’s on right now.

“I mean, if we’re exclusive and shit, and I’m on contraceptives…?”

He stares at her earnest face blankly. She clearly wants him to finish the thought, but he can’t follow. Zeke shrugs, gesturing for her to continue.

Louise continues slowly. “Then there won’t be any need for condoms, right?”

Zeke, always so careful to avoid unwanted pregnancy, to do the right thing, to not get it all out of order, never even considered the idea before. “Do _whut?_ ”

She throws her hands up in the air and turns to flee before she dies of embarrassment. “Never mind!”

He catches her sleeve. “Hold on, I…” A slow smile spreads over his face as he works through the possibilities. “I ain’t thought of that before. It’d be like loosin’ our virginities to each other!”

“You’ve never…?”

“Uh-uh. I reckon you ain’t done it raw either?”

“Oh my God,” she breathes, somehow turning even redder.

Zeke runs a hand through her hair, tangles it in her curls. “You want that, baby?”

Louise can’t look at him, but she nods vigorously.

“Kiss me,” he breathes.


	7. SEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang on, folks! It's about to get REAL!

The Royal Court, having progressed to the exit gates, bid good morrow to fairgoers as they leave for the day. Hot and dusty, pleasantly tired, everyone—actors and patrons alike—look forward to a good meal, a good shower, and a good night’s sleep before tomorrow’s festivities. Sitting on her throne at the Royal Pavilion, Queen Elizabeth smiles up at Lady Roseamund, who, like the rest of her retinue, must stand to complete the royal picture.

Linda rubs her neck and left shoulder. “This corset it pinching a nerve, I know it,” she mutters.

Her Majesty cuts her a warning look; staying in character is important, and she’s tired of reminding this lady-in-waiting. “Mine fits quite well,” she says with a smug little smile.

“I’m so pleased for Your Majesty,” Linda responds through gritted teeth. She’d love to undo her laces and sit for a while. Linda likes to think she’s in decent shape for her age—she’s on her feet every…well, _many_ of the days of the week at the restaurant—but this one day of merriment has completely wiped her out. She’s going to have to talk to Lydia and Christy; she doesn’t care what they say or how much they scold her, this corset doesn’t fit properly! She’s sore and slightly winded, and all she’s doing is just standing around.

Poots the Fool, his hair pulled back in a fishtail braid, leads the court and patrons in a rousing rendition of “Johnny Jump Up” in his best Irish accent while beating a frame drum. Kathleen, on break from her post at the ticket booths, assures everyone around her that he sounds quite good, only a _little_ like Lucky the Leprechaun from the cereal commercials. Gene’s discovered a talent for accents in the past year, and he’s convinced that he’ll find voiceover work in New York, in addition to stand-up.

Bob, still drunk and leaning heavily on Teddy, applauds his son with the rest of the crowd. “That’s my son,” he adds proudly, turning to Mort, who’s dressed as a plague doctor, his beaky mask pushed up on his head so he can breathe. Bob’s not sure when the mortician joined them, but he’s glad for the company.

“I know, Bob.”

“He’s gonna take New York by storm, but I’m going to miss him so much,” Bob adds in a slightly watery voice; he’s talked repeatedly about his children throughout the day, and he’s teared up every time. “I’m gonna loose my boy in just th-three months. And T-Tina will be gone for years. But my baby girl will still be here.”

“That’s right, Bobby,” Teddy consoles. “Um, your baby girl. She—she has a lot of close friends, I’ve noticed, some older friends, and—“

“There she is!” Bob, seeing his daughters approaching, waves both arms excitedly, splashing Mort and Teddy with the dregs of his tankard. “Girls! Girls, over here!”

Tina and Logan lead the way, a slight grimness about Tina’s mouth telling him that she hasn’t had the best time, even though she’s on the arm of the handsomest man at the Faire. Tammy and Jocelyn, clearly sniping at each other, follow behind, while Jimmy Junior trails them, fists in his pockets, scowling at the ground like a sullen teen. Bob’s eyes brighten at the sight of his youngest daughter, his favorite child, some distance behind the others. Louise changed back into her street clothes, but she still has the garland of orange roses on her head. She walks so close to Zeke that their fingers occasionally brush. They’re speaking animatedly, and the shorter man grins up at her with shining eyes. Even at a distance, there’s something…some sort of aura about them…

Teddy begins to growl—actually _growl_ , like a guard dog—at Bob’s side. Bob looks over at Teddy, and follows his stare. He frowns, his alcohol-dulled brain trying to process what he’s seeing.

Tina and Logan genuflect before the Queen.

“Well met, good gentles. Hast thou enjoyed today’s festivities?”

“Very much, Your Majesty,” Logan responds for them both with his most charming smile. Tina, too shy to answer, even though it’s just Colleen Caviello with a burgundy wig and fluctuating accent, simply nods.

“Excellent, excellent,” the Queen murmurs.

Poots pulls a rose out of his sleeve and with an equally flowery speech offers it to Abby. She giggles and tucks it behind her ear.

Tina, having long since tossed the flower Jimmy Junior bought her in the trash, smashed it down along with her old, stupid feelings about the dancer and his butt, catches Tammy rolling her eyes at the spectacle.

“Any guy can give a girl a flower,” Tammy snorts. Even cutting away at Jocelyn hasn’t improved her mood.

“Oh, _whatever_ ,” Jocelyn drawls. “You’d be happier if someone gave _you_ a rose, but they won’t, because you’re terrible.”

Jocelyn’s loud voice carries well, and several people titter; even the Queen’s mouth twitches with laughter. Tammy looks around and sees Logan’s dancing eyes, Tina chuckling. Even Jimmy Junior, roused out of his funk, looks amused.

But it’s Louise Belcher, cackling in her slightly manic way, that really sends Tammy over the edge. Well, that and the way Zeke—the drool-worthy chunk of meat who’s obviously _not_ interested in Tammy—beams at Louise with a look of complete devotion.

Tammy glowers at her. “You think that’s funny, Louise?”

“Your jealousy isn’t exactly a secret, Tammy. Is there a man here you _haven’t_ thrown yourself at today?”

Tammy would love nothing more than to smack the smug right off of Louise’s face, but Louise is, frankly, too big and too loony to take on like that. So Tammy just tosses her hair over her shoulder.

“Really? You want to talk to me about _secrets?_ What about you and Zeke?”

There’s a collective gasp, and Tammy grins triumphantly at the crowd. Careful to project her voice for maximum effect, just like she was taught to do when giving presentations at school, she continues. “Is there anyone here who _doesn’t_ know Zeke Smythe’s going all Jeffery Epstein on Louise Belcher?”

Louise’s death glare and purple face speaks volumes. Beside her, Zeke’s face is an open book, his guilt, the veracity of Tammy’s words, out there for everyone to see.

Bob slowly turns to his youngest daughter, his eyes _begging_ her to tell him that Tammy’s lying. “Is this true, Louise?”

“Dad…” she tries to soothe him with her prettiest smile, but it twists into a guilty grimace.

A pause, a beat, then total chaos.

“ _I’ll kill you!_ ” Teddy lunges towards Zeke, who instinctively takes a defensive stance, fists up, abs tight.

Mort moves quickly, zipping his arms around the handyman and locking his hands behind his neck. “Calm down there, big guy.”

Linda rocks on her feet, slapping a steadying hand on the queen’s throne, the other on her chest. “ _Wha--? Wha--? Wha--?_ ”

Two honor guards join Mort in his effort to hold Teddy back, but he still manages to slog forward a few steps. “ _My honorary niece!_ ”

Louise bellows a battle cry and lunges at Tammy. Zeke just barely catches her in time. He’s a tough guy, he knows how to restrain a person, but Louise has crazy strength on her side, and he doesn’t want to hurt her. “Damn girl, when’dya git so _strong_? Gene! J-Ju! Li’l help here!”

Gene’s rooted to the ground and staring at the scene in horror, emitting a low, Tina-like groan. Jimmy Junior backs away slowly, hands in the air. “I don’t want any part of this.”

Tina turns to Jocelyn with a hardened expression. “Get her out of here now,” she says, jerking her chin at Tammy.

To her credit, Jocelyn tries, but Tammy shakes off her hand, determined to revel in the mess she’s created. “What Louise, is the _pedoputz_ in charge here? Come at me!”

Security finally rushes over, three big men in bright orange t-shirts, and two of them help hold Louise back, while another helps restrain Teddy.

Logan’s voice cuts over the commotion, his strident tone turning heads “Linda? _Linda!_ ”

Grey-faced, a thin trail of vomit staining her chin and dress, Linda is half slumped on the throne, supported by Logan.

“I—can’t—catch my—breath--!”

Logan points at Abby. “You! Call an ambulance!” He then turns to Colleen Caviello. “Help me with this dress, she needs to breathe. Someone get a doctor!”

Louise can’t process what she’s seeing through her veil of red-hot rage. Why is everyone calling for an ambulance, for aspirin, for water? Why are Jessica’s parents shouldering their way through the crowd, shouting to make a hole, that they’re doctors—they’re _osteopaths_ , for crying out loud! Why are Logan and Mrs. Caviello stripping her mother down to her chemise in front of God and everybody? Why is Bob hovering at his wife’s side, wailing that he loves her, begging her not to leave him? It’s just her mother being dramatic, as usual. Don’t feed the beast!

It isn’t until Linda slowly collapses to the ground with a low, pained moan, her hands pressed together at the left side of her chest, that her daughter understands what’s happening.

Louise Belcher _literally_ broke her mother’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM!


	8. EIGHT

Linda’s rushed off to Devereaux General Hospital with Bob at her side. Teddy takes position in the front seat of the ambulance and flatly refuses to leave his friend—his _best_ friend, Bob Burgers. The medics see that Mr. Belcher, dazed, scared, and a bit drunk, needs the support, so, grumbling, they squish together to make room.

Dr. Mom and Dr. Dad follow close behind with Jessica, Rudy, and Mort—who pauses long enough to give Zeke a significant look—leaving the Belcher kids in the care of Logan. Logan can’t say he’s pleased with this development. Sure, he likes to be in charge, and he knew that becoming a paramedic would be more of a vocation than just a job, but he was really hoping to relax today—why do things always go tits-up around the Belchers?

Still, taking in the scene in front of him, he realizes that he’s the adultiest adult present, and he needs to do _something_. Gene, riding the boarder of a crying jag, hands the keys to the family car to Tina, who’s shaking so badly she promptly drops them. Discovering why reenactors laugh that it's "Shoes first, _then_ corset," Tina can neither bend nor squat properly to pick them up. Off to the side, Louise is ranting to anyone who will listen about all the violent things she’s going to do to Tammy Larson, who has long since disappeared. Zeke has his hands full keeping her contained.

“Okay, I’m going to drive you and Gene to the hospital,” Logan informs Tina, picking the keys out of the dust at her feet.

Tina nods mutely and takes Gene’s hand. He squeezes it hard.

Logan and Zeke exchange a nod, formulating a silent plan.

“C’mon, babygirl, I’ll take ya to the hospital,” Zeke gently steers a still-raving Louise to the parking lot.

The trip is an interminable one for them both. Why did Zeke park so far back? Why is traffic so congested getting out of here? What’s with this stupid slow speed limit, and why does he insist on following it? Why to they keep hitting all the lights? This is an _emergency_ , damn it!

Zeke says nothing, focusing instead on his driving, responding with the occasional grunt if he thinks he needs to. He knows Louise, understands the fear and guilt behind her rage, and of course it’s useless to try to reason with her until she gets some of this out of her system.

He pulls into a spot in the parking garage and cuts the engine, psyching himself up for the difficulties ahead. Louise immediately tries to fling the door open, but Zeke activated the childproof lock when she wasn't paying attention.

“ _Well?_ ” She gestures to the handle.

“We need to talk first, honey.”

“Talk? _Talk?_ My mom’s up there having a heart attack! We can _talk_ later!”

“No, we can’t,” he says flatly. “This won’t take a minute, even less if you calm down and listen.”

“You want to get our story straight?”

“That ain’t the issue; you an’ me hooked up after ya turned sixteen, so there's no need to lie. Maybe we aren’t strictly above board, but I ain't a kiddie diddler. I’m talkin’ about the Fischoeder connection.”

“Mr. Fischoeder? What does _he_ have to do with anything?”

“Folks say lots of stuff when they’re stressed,” Zeke says, remembering Mort’s warning glance. “Yer parents can’t know _anythin’_ about The Family. Ya took an oath, an' he expects you to honor it.”

“Fine, okay, whatever. Now, can we—“ She tries the door again. If only she could transport herself directly to her mother’s side, hear her voice, see her chest rise and fall as she breathes, without facing the hostility of everyone in the waiting room or this bullshit conversation!

“One more thing.” He takes her hand. “Yer gonna have to be very strong, honey. It don’t matter what anyone says, Tina and Gene are gonna be lookin’ to you fer strength and guidance. Yer Daddy, too.”

“Duh, I’m _always_ the strong one. I take care of everyone, and everything, and everyone just gets in my way and tries to hold me back! Who looks after _me_? Nobody! Who covers _my_ back?”

“ _I_ do,” he says simply, quietly, trying to impart some strength to her as he squeezes her hand. “ _I_ got yer back—I’m ride or die, ya know that, babygirl.”

She stares at him mutely, her eyes wide.

“Told ya before, we’re a team. I always got yer best interests at heart, Louise.”

Courage flows back into her body, stiffening her spine, pushing back the fear, the guilt, squashing all the what-ifs that have circled her mind since she saw her mother collapse. She’s Louise Belcher, damn it! She tackles problems head-on, she doesn’t fall to pieces; she’s the one who picks other people up and puts them back together. Louise doesn’t fear facing her family and friends and all their shitty accusations. What do they know about her, about Zeke?

Louise reaches out and strokes his bearded cheek, a tiny, fragile smile trembling at the corners of her mouth; she’d make it through hell and back with this man at her side. He presses his big, wide hand over hers.

“You too, darlin'. So much.”

* * * * *

Tina turns red-rimmed eyes to the doorway, astonished that her baby sister has the audacity to arrive holding _his_ hand. Her father is still with her mother, and Tina, Gene, and seemingly their entire extended friends network are in the waiting room. Jessica’s parents and Logan are particularly comforting, reminding everyone that Linda made it safely to the hospital, that it takes a while to perform tests, and that the doctors want to be thorough before making either a diagnosis or a prognosis. Teddy convinced himself somewhere along the line that the crowd needed refreshments, and, after an extended absence, returned pushing a cart of snacks, which nobody but Gene could eat.

Tina frowns, affixing Zeke with a death glare. “Great, you dropped her off. Go.”

Zeke might have turned, reasoning that his presence is just escalating the tension in the room. (Mort placed a warning hand on Teddy’s shoulder, but the handyman is still growling.) Louise practically squeezes Zeke’s hand purple.

“He’s with me. We aren’t running,” Louise says calmly and with finality.

Gene begins to groan quietly, and Tina’s sharp retort is cut off by the arrival of their father, looking years older than he did that morning.

“Bob, is she—“

“What’s going on, Dad?”

“Dad, can we see her!”

“Is Mom okay?”

“Wow,” Bob breathes, surprised to see the waiting room filled with so many friends. He tries to give the room a small, grateful smile, but his face falls when he sees Louise and Zeke, still holding hands, standing slightly apart from the others. He grunts and turns to his older children.

“Mild. It was a mild…not-stemmie?” Overwhelmed by the day, still struggling through the last bit of alcohol, Bob can’t remember the technical language, and instinctively turns to Logan for help.

“NSTEMI. So, a partially blocked artery.” Logan’s been on calls for plenty of heart attacks, and has performed more EKGs and handed out more baby aspirin than he can count; he knows the drill well. “Is she going in for a coronary angiography?”

Bob shrugs. “Nobody mentioned it. Dr. Khitaab said she wanted to keep Linda quiet and under observation for a day before finalizing her treatment strategy. Something about calculating her GRACE risk score? I know they took her EKG a bunch of times, and did blood tests…a lot." He pauses and swallows hard; even _thinking_ about all that blood makes him a little queasy. "Um, they’re giving her a drug cocktail, I don’t remember all of them, but I remember nitroglycerin and an anti-coagulant of some kind.”

Logan nods and smiles reassuringly. “Very standard. Time is muscle, and she got treatment quickly. It sounds like the odds are on her side.”

Bob tries to return the smile, but he can’t quite manage it; the sight of Logan holding his grey-faced wife in his arms is one he’ll never forget. “Thank you,” he whispers hoarsely.

Louise exhales. There’s more talk about a possible stent and medications, but she isn’t listening; her mother’s _alive!_ She isn’t in eminent danger, everything’s going to be okay. Zeke squeezes her hand, and she turns to him, surprised to see tears in his eyes. She feels a surge of warmth for the man who was so worried about her mom.

“Louise, your mother wants to see you,” Bob says, looking at a point over her shoulder.

“Oh.” Gene slumps, obviously hoping he’d be his mother’s first visitor.

“ _Louise?_ ” Tina’s voice is a knife and she plunges it deep in her sister’s chest. “She almost _killed_ Mom!”

There’s a collective groan, and nobody can look at Louise, Zeke or each other; some were thinking the same thing, though they’d never say as much, and all of them are embarrassed to witness this drama.

Louise turns an ugly shade of red, and she locks eyes with her sister. “That’s not true and you know it,” she says with more conviction than she feels.

“Is it?” Tina’s on her feet, pointing an accusative finger at Louise, refusing to loose this stare-down. “You and your gross secret—“

“That _you_ agreed to help keep.”

Bob turns pained eyes to Tina’s astonished, guilty face. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t…I can’t handle this right now. Louise, your mother’s in room 246. Zeke, walk with me.”

* * * * *

Louise squares her shoulders, reminding herself of all the money she still has hidden in the apartment that her parents don’t know about; even if she’s disowned, she won’t be homeless or helpless. Zeke swore he’s her ride or die—well, he can prove it by taking her to the apartment to grab her cash and bug-out bag. Louise takes a breath and knocks on the partially open door.

“Come on in,” calls an uncharacteristically weak voice.

Louise’s mouth twitches, but she pushes the door open. Small and seemingly shrunken on the large bed, Linda is laying down in the dim light, idly watching the television on mute. Louise can’t believe how many machines are here; she recognizes an IV, a heart monitor, and one of those funny oxygen tubes that wrap around the face with two little prongs going up the nostrils.

“Turn on the overhead,” Linda says tiredly.

Louise flicks the switch. Her mother is pale and her eyes are heavy-lidded, with black circles of exhaustion making them look enormous. Is it Louise’s imagination, or is her hair greyer than she was a few hours ago, too? Louise has always loved teasing her parents about their age because it irritates them so much. Now, looking at Linda, weak and sick, Louise is forced to face her mother’s mortality for the first time; Mom might not die today, tomorrow, or next week, but eventually there will come a time when Louise will have to say goodbye to her forever.

Louise’s vision blurs, and her lip begins to quiver.

“Come here,” Linda opens her arms.

Louise collapses into the chair at her mother’s side. She grasps Linda’s offered hands. “ _I’m sorry, Mommy._ ”

* * * * *

Bob and Zeke walk in heavy silence to the meditation room. There’s lots of chairs lined up in tidy rows, tables with tissue boxes, and an open space for standing congregations or prayer rugs. They find it deserted except for Jessica and Rudy, standing side by side, reciting something in Hebrew they’re reading from a cell phone. Rudy’s voice is the more confident of the two.

_“…v’no mar, Amen!_ ” They finish. The twosome look up, take one look at Bob and Zeke, and scurry out of the room.

Bob waits until the door clicks behind them. He turns to look at Zeke, who is shame-facedly studying the floor. Though it took a bit of convincing on Linda’s part, Bob agreed to divide tasks on this one.

_“Let me talk to her, Bob, she’ll tell me the truth,” Linda said in a tired voice._

_“Lin, you’re—“_

_“We both know she’ll just sweet-talk around you, and this can’t wait.”_

_Bob sighed. He his wife was right; the longer they wait, the more time the gruesome twosome will have to corroborate their stories, and he’ll never know the facts of the situation. Louise always knew how to manipulate him, but even Louise wouldn’t dare lie to her mother in this condition, would she? Especially when she, Louise, caused it. Bob doesn’t care what the doctor says: sure, they know now that Lin was experiencing heart attack warnings for at least a week before the event, that she could have had the thing walking to the car, or climbing the stairs to their apartment, or even in her sleep, but that’s not what happened. Bob doesn’t trust Tammy’s motivations, but the fact of the matter is she told the truth, and the truth—that his daughter is simultaneously a lying brat and a victim, who’s been playing around with a grown man that the family trusted—gave Linda a heart attack._

Bob turns to Zeke. “I…I don’t even know what to say to you. How could you do this to us?”

Zeke turns pained eyes to the older man. “Mr. B, I—“

“I think it’s ‘Mr. Belcher’ from now on.”

Zeke blanches. “Yes, sir. Mr. Belcher, I didn’t mean to cause trouble with yer family, I swear it. Louise an’ me, it…weren’t intentional. I’m not a predator, it just—it just sorta happened.”

“You _accidentally_ molested my daughter? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I didn’t _molest_ nobody. It ain’t like that at all,” Zeke rallies himself a little. “It’s mutual, always has been. Louise ain’t eighteen yet, but she’s legal an’ whatnot…Mr. B-Belcher, you know as well as I do there ain’t nobody on this planet who can make that gal do somethin’ she don’t wanna do.”

Bob grunts; he’s right about that, even if he’s wrong about everything else. Linda said as much earlier.

_“I’m not saying he’s an angel here, Bob. She’s still our baby, and even if she can give consent, he had no business with her, especially with the sneaking, but…you know Louise. It’s not quite like it would be if we were talking about Tina or Gene.”_

“I don’t care _what_ Louise is like, or if she’s _legal_ ,” Bob says shortly, a point he made to his wife. “ _You’re_ the adult, _you_ should’ve known better. The fact that you kept it a secret instead of manning up and talking to us means you _knew_ we'd disapprove! We trusted you!”

“Yeah,” Zeke admits, running a tired hand over his hair. How can he explain to Mr. Belcher how special Louise is to him, how much he cares about her, that he’s her friend, her partner, her lover, not her molester? Surely, if Mr. Belcher realizes how much he, Zeke, loves Louise, he’ll forgive everything else. The only thing Zeke can think of is to declare his intention to make her his wife, but even Zeke knows that now is _not_ that momement, and besides, Louise would murder him if he talked to her dad about it before her. So, what _can_ he do to make this right? How can he explain himself so Mr. Belcher understands him?

“I…look, I ain’t proud of how this thing started. I know I ought’ve waited, or talked to you n' Mrs. Belcher, an’ it looks bad— _is_ bad—on paper. But I—we barely see each other! I ain’t one of them older guys creepin’ all over a high school girl, manipulatin’ her, takin’ her over an’ ruinin’ her life. I’ve supported her dreams an’ her goals an’ sh—stuff. Hell, I’ve _encouraged_ her to have a normal teenage life! I mean, she’s on the honor roll, an’ takes them college classes, an’ she works hard for ya, don’t she? She’s got good friends, an’ dated other guys. There ain’t a thing I wouldn’t do fer her. I’ve been real careful not to hold her back in any way, or destroy her happiness. We jus’ see each other sometimes, when we can. I’ve taken real good care of her, I swear it!”

Damn it all, that’s another point Linda brought up!

_“I don’t think they see each other that often—how can they, he’s barely in town, and she’s so busy with school and work. It must be mostly a texting relationship. It’s not like in the movies. I mean, she has so much going on, whatever they’re doing, she doesn’t live and die just for him.”_

Bob shakes his head, clenching his trembling fists. “You. And my daughter. Don’t you _get_ it? You’re—you’re making excuses for yourself! All this…this…this… _supporting_ and _encouraging_ …you had no business being there in the first place supporting or encouraging anything! How long has she been lying to us? How long have you been abusing my little girl?!”

Zeke knows he’s in trouble. Bob’s clearly loosing it, and if Zeke isn’t careful, he’s going to have a fight on his hands. He doesn’t want to hurt the old man—he’ll never forgive himself if he puts _both_ of Louise’s parents in the hospital—but he’s not eager to let himself get pummeled, either.

“I’m sorry,” Zeke sighs. “I really am. I never meant to hurt ya, or Mrs. Belcher. I never meant to betray ya, or encourage Louise to lie to ya. I—I love her, Mr. Belcher. She’s my—she’s the most important person in my life. It ain’t a fling or somethin’. I’m dead serious about her, an’ if ya just give me a chance, I’ll prove it.”

The older man stares at him with a woebegone expression. A small, terrible part of him almost wishes Zeke _were_ just using Louise, because it would be so much easier to get rid of the predator without making Bob the bad guy. If that were the case, it would take just a little push-back, and Louise’s advancing age, to send Zeke packing on his own. Sure, Louise would be upset, but she’d be free. But if she’s bought into his love crap, maybe even convinced herself she loves him back, that makes Bob’s job a thousand times harder.

Bob swallows hard. “You haven’t answered my question. How long have you two been betraying us?”

A muscle twitches in Zeke’s jaw, and he rolls his shoulders back. “Louise and me’ve been together since a li’l after she got her license.”

“I gotta sit down,” Bob murmurs, sinking into a chair. Every time he thinks this day, this conversation, has reached rock-bottom, he discovers that rock-bottom has an endless series of sub-basements! He’d desperately hoped it was a recent development, perhaps going back as far as this past Christmas break; he wouldn’t be happy about it, but he could handle it, given how close Louise is to eighteen. Now, he realizes that was delusional thinking at best.

Two years. Louise has been lying to him for almost _two years!_ Zeke, the trusted family friend, has been making fools of them for almost _two years!_ He, Bob, has failed his daughter for almost _two years!_ With the blinders gone, Bob can easily connect the dots, and so many little signs, little tells, suddenly make sense. The evidence was right in front of him the whole time, and Tina—probably Gene, too—were in on it! The happiness of their home, the trusting, loving bonds he’d taken for granted, were an illusion, a fantasy, a farce, and he and Linda were the butt of the joke.

“Go,” Bob whispers.

Zeke opens his mouth, shuts it, and exits the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Bob drops his head into his hands and weeps.


	9. NINE

Louise blows her nose for the fourth time and tosses the soggy tissue into the wastebasket. She twists her nose stud so the prong isn't sticking out of her nostril. 

“Honey, I’m going to be fine, hush,” Linda tries to smile. She knew better than to bother with any sort of rational comments while Louise had her breakdown, but now that her little girl has tired herself out, it’s time to get serious. “You know how I’ve had tummy troubles and been tired and achy lately? Those were pre-heart attack symptoms.”

“Why didn’t you t-t-tell anyone?”

“I didn’t know it either. I thought I was just excited about the Faire, and…well, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Louise’s lip begins to wibble again.

“Oh no you don’t, Miss Missy,” Linda says firmly; she knows she has only a few minutes left with Louise before the nurse kicks her out, and she can’t waste them on another crying jag.

Louise sets her jaw and fights the tears back, earning a look of approval from her mother. She’s surprised by how much it means to her.

“We have a few things to clear up, Louise. It’s true, then, what Tammy said, about you and Zeke?”

Louise stares at her hands—big, long-fingered, just like her mother’s—and nods.

“Humph. Louise, look at me.”

Linda looks her daughter in the eyes. “You aren’t pregnant, are you?”

“Oh my God! Mom!” Louise buries her face in her hands, desperately hoping Linda won’t launch into one of her safe-sex songs. What’s with everyone and _babies_ lately, anyway?

“Well?”

“No!”

“But it’s a fair question, isn’t it?” Linda asks softly.

Louise forces herself to meet her mother's gaze; the woman deserves that much. She nods.

“I thought so,” Linda sighs. “Well, I’m glad you’re on birth control. We’ll get you tested for STDs this week. No arguments, you,” she adds, cutting over Louise’s sputtering protests. “A grown man, playing with a teenager, who knows what he’s given you!”

“He’s not diseased! And neither am I.”

Linda turns narrow eyes to her. “From where I’m sitting, you’re _both_ contaminated, and I don’t just mean the sex. Sneaking and creeping around like that--and a lie of omission is still a lie, young lady! He’s the one who started you on the marijuana, isn’t he?”

Of all the things Linda could have said, this is the most shocking of all. Louise blinks at her with slack-jawed astonishment.

Proud that she’s been able to shock her daughter to silence at least once in her life, Linda can’t hold back a smirk. “I was born in the morning, but not _this_ morning. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your father—that would be too much for him right now. But you really need to learn to cover up the stink, Louise. It hasn’t been so bad lately, but your room used to just _reek_.”

“If you…thought I was doing that, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Oh, I was young too,” Linda waves a hand. “And your grades are so good, and you’re so athletic, I figured, hey, if she can do all that and smoke a little, more power to her. I’m glad you cut back though; I haven’t smelled it on you in weeks.”

“Mom, you were a _stoner_ ,” Louise giggles, respect for her mother ticking up a few notches.

“I was,” Linda admits. “I never quite got your Aunt Gayle into it, I always thought it would help.”

Mother and daughter share a warm smile, bonding over their secret. Louise wishes her mother had said something long ago, rather than try to strong-arm closeness over tubs of ice cream and craft projects and shitty rom-coms, like she did with Tina and Gene.

“So, it’s _his_ fault you’re friends with mary jane?”

“No, Mom! Zeke has nothing to do with that.”

Remembering Zeke’s warning about The Family, Louise decides to do everything she can to distance Zeke and pot in her mother’s mind. “It wasn’t Zeke, I swear.”

“Must’ve been Gene, then, he’s so artsy.”

Louise keeps her face stoic; now is _not_ the time for that story.

“I hardly know what to say, Louise,” Linda sighs tiredly. “I know you like to keep your little secrets, but…this is big. _Real_ big. You’ve lived an entire secret life under my nose. Do I yell at you? Punish you? And what’s the point? I’m disappointed, but your father…I’m afraid he wants to talk to the police.”

Panic rises in Louise’s chest, making her suddenly cold, then hot. She can’t let the police get involved! It would be a total disaster! Their relationship may be legal, but Zeke’s done all sorts of dubious and illegal things for Mr. Fischoeder, up to and including murder, and any one of them would get him sent to prison. They _can’t_ investigate him, for any reason, no matter what!

Swallowing her terror as best she can, Louise tries to affect a casual air. “Well, that’d be a waste of time. I’m not in my majority yet, but the age of consent in New Jersey is sixteen.”

“Mm,” Linda’s tone is as dry as unbuttered toast. “At least he waited until you’re legal, right?”

“Mom, it’s not like that! He didn’t…he didn’t, you know, _groom_ me or something. Jeez!”

“Are you _sure_ about that, Louise? It seems to me that if he did, you’d be the last one to know.”

Louise glowers at her mother.

Linda rubs her face; this is tiring her more than she thought it would. Who knew that just talking could be so exhausting? “Adjust my pillows for me, will you?”

Louise fluffs the pillows and helps her mother sit in a more comfortable position. She pours her a glass of water and tucks in the blankets, a worried frown puckering her brow as she looks at her mother. “Should I…I don’t want to drain you.”

“I’m fine,” her mother lies. “But I’ll be better if I know the truth. _Maybe_ I can talk your father down from the ledge.”

“Oh my God,” Louise rubs the bridge of her nose; she knows blackmail when she hears it. “Look, we were kinda…attracted to each other, but didn’t do anything about it until late July, the summer I turned sixteen. We don’t see each other much, but we talk when he’s out of town.”

Inwardly congratulating herself for prying open her secretive daughter, Linda presses forward, making sure she projects as weak and sick an air as she can. “So he keeps tabs on you then?”

“I told you, Mom—it’s not like that! We’re friends as well as—“

“Lovers?” her mother finishes for her.

Louise nods mutely.

“You…love him, don’t you?”

Wondering if it’s possible for her face to literally burst into flames, Louise nods again.

“Aw, your first romance,” Linda coos. “So much drama, forbidden love, just like Romeo and Juliet!”

“Uh, Mom, they die at the end.”

“Well, nobody here is dying today, Miss Missy,” Linda says with all the vigor she can manage, which isn’t very much. “Does he love you too?”

Having admitted the worst, Louise has courage enough to nod again.

Linda rubs her eyes. “Louise honey, boys say _all sorts_ of things to get into a girl’s pants. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“He _does_ love me! He’s told me so a million times!”

“ _I_ believe that _you_ believe that.” Linda’s voice is soft, placating. “But why would a grown man be with a teenage girl?”

“Exactly! Why bother with all the problems unless he loves me? If he were using me, he’d dump me right after getting what he wanted, right?”

“Give me proof—one solid piece of evidence that he _actually_ loves you.”

A thousand proofs flare up before Louise’s eyes, none of which she can tell her mother about. Zeke, trying to button her coat in the alley even though she was clearly furious with him: the tattoo he had inked into his arm in her honor: Zeke, offering to kill the men who tried to rape her. All the times he had the guts to confront her about her bad behavior, the little presents, the kisses and laughter, the lovemaking that made her feel like a goddess.

“He always says I—I should enjoy my high school years, that he doesn’t want to hold me back in any way.” She looks her mother in the eyes. “That I should _experience stuff_. He means I should date other guys if I want to, and I have, and he knows it. He says I won’t grow up right if I don’t have that freedom. Zeke loves me enough to let me go, and hope I come back. If that’s not love, what is?”


	10. TEN

Tina and Gene sit side by side in the waiting room across from their sister and Zeke. None of the siblings can look at each other, and the droning television is worse than actual silence. Their friends have long since gone home for the evening—even Teddy, albeit with much persuasion—as there’s no more news to be had, and Linda is too tired for more visitors.

_Jessica actually hugged Louise before she left, which was surprising; neither of them are huggers. “I’m sorry about your mom, I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said. “And I’ll keep her in my prayers. I said the_ Mi Sheberach _, it’s a prayer for the sick. I hope it helped.”_

_Louise has more faith in her mother’s cardiologist than she does in Jessica’s prayers, but Jess means well. “Thanks. I—I didn’t know there’s a special prayer for the sick.”_

_“Yeah, Rudy helped me. Mom, well, I think it helped me finally get through to her, that I’m really serious about becoming Jewish.” Jessica’s eyes glowed with happiness._

_Louise grunted in response, and Jessica had the presence of mind to blush. “Sorry, that was—“_

_“Tell me about it tomorrow,” Louise said with a crooked smile._

Tina affixes Zeke with a glare that could flay flesh from the bone. “You can leave any time, you know.”

Zeke shakes his head. “Yer daddy wants to talk to Louise n’ I first.”

“Louise and me,” Tina corrects with a huff.

Earlier, Tina and Gene had their turn with their mother together. Having cried, assured themselves that she’s alive, cried again, confessed their part in the whole miserable affair, and cried some more, they sit in the waiting room holding hands, each stewing in their own thoughts, wanting nothing more than for this day to be over.

For his part, Gene is sure he’ll never recover from his guilt, made all the worse by the fact that both parents seem very disappointed, but not very surprised, by his silence regarding his sister’s secret.

_Linda patted his hand tiredly. “We all know how Louise can be, and of course you didn’t want to live with that. You meant well.”_

_“I know she can be…terrifying...but I really expected better from you, Gene. You’re her large brother,” Bob added, unable to look his son in the eyes._

Tina, on the other hand, is buoyed by anger. Should she have said something to her parents? In retrospect, of course she should have. But…but Louise lives with them, why didn’t they see what was going on in front of their faces? Zeke and Louise weren’t nearly as circumspect as they imagined, anyone with eyes could have spotted it! Tina’s just her sister, after all—and yes, being the oldest, she has special responsibilities and yadda-yadda-yadda, but come on, _she’s_ not the parent!

Tina’s only 22, but she’s old enough to know that life isn’t fair, and it seems determined to be particularly unjust to her, especially when she bumps up against her baby sister. Louise lied to and tricked their parents for literally _years_ , and, while Mom and Dad are angry, they view her as more of a victim than anything else, while she, Tina, is viewed as an irresponsible let-down! Tina can handle being second-best when it comes to looks, intelligence, and personality, but this is too much!

_“Tina, I just can’t believe you didn’t say anything! What were you thinking?” Linda sighed._

_“I know you kids have always kept secrets, but you really should have known better,” Bob shook his head. “This is huge, Tina. I don’t even know what to say to you…I’m just…disappointed. How could you do this to us?”_

Tina shifts in her seat; Dad told them to wait for him, but if he’s not back in five minutes, she’s calling an Uber. She doesn’t have to put up with this crap, she’s an adult, and she’s going to leave the country in just a few weeks. If she’s such a disappointment, then, well, she can stay away permanently!

Bob appears, and Tina swears the bags under his eyes are heavier than they were an hour ago. Practically swaying with exhaustion, he doesn’t have the energy to even glare at his youngest daughter and the young man sitting next to her.

“Your mother and I want to talk to both of you.” He turns and walks back down the hall.

* * * * *

Linda can do little more than blink tiredly as Bob enters her room, followed by Louise and Zeke. She’s dozed, cat-napped between visitors, which is probably the only reason she’s awake now. After a quick consultation with Bob, Linda waved her hand in defeat, conceding parental authority in this case to her husband. She knows he’s right; she’s not in any condition to handle this, probably won’t be for a few weeks, and it needs immediate attention. Linda did insist, however, that they do this with her in the room, so she and Bob can present a united front.

_Bob rubbed his hand tiredly over his face. “I just hope this is the right decision,” he muttered, getting up to go bring in the kids._

_“I think so,” Linda said, though she had the strong feeling that no matter what they did, they’d all loose. It’s like that thing the kids say: It don’t always be like that, but sometimes it do._

Bob immediately goes over and stands by his wife, the message obvious. Zeke gives way for Louise, laying a light hand on her back as she walks in—there’s no reason to try to hide anything now, he figures—and stands by her side. He resists the urge to hold her hand, because his courage goes just so far.

“Mrs. Belcher,” Zeke murmurs.

Linda nods.

Bob glares at him, disliking the fact that Zeke would dare speak to his wife, given all he’s done to the family, but lets it go. Louise crosses her arms, an obdurate set to her jaw, but raw vulnerability glimmers in her eyes. There’s an air of resignation about Zeke: he has the look of a man tiredly bracing himself for the worst.

“We’ve talked it over,” Bob says quietly. “This won’t take long. Louise, you’re eighteen on June 15th. At that point, you can do whatever the hell you want. Until then, you’re a minor _child_ , and under our authority.”

“Dad—“

“ _Stop!_ ” Bob holds up a hand. “For God’s sake, Louise, for once in your life, just… _stop_.”

Louise opens her mouth to protest, but Zeke makes a noise in his throat, and Louise glances over at him. They exchange a look. Sighing, Louise shuts her mouth in a tight line and motions for her father to continue.

Bob adds another mark against Zeke. Louise won’t follow the directions of her own father, but one little sound, one look, from that…that…

“ _As I was saying_ , you’re under our authority. You will not see, speak, or communicate with each other in any way until June 15th. If you do, I will contact the police and let them take care of it.”

“Dad! You can’t do that!”

“The _hell_ I can’t!” Bob rounds on her furiously, and is pleased to see her take a startled step back; everyone thinks Louise gets her craziness from her mother’s side of the family, and that’s true, but he’s contributed his fair share to the cocktail.

“You’re a _child_ , Louise! I don’t care what either of you say or how you rationalize it, he had no business touching you, or…” Bob makes a slight gagging noise. “It’s _not_ your body, your rules, not yet—three months from now, you can ruin your life however you like, but right now, _I’m_ in control, and if you so much as say _hello_ to each other, that bastard’s going to jail!”

“Fuck that! You wanna play hardball, how’s this: I’ll run away and you’ll _never_ see me again! Come on, Zeke, we’re outta here!” Louise, thinking of her money and bug-out bag, grabs Zeke’s arm, but he stands put.

“Do that and we’ll _have_ to call the police, Louise,” Linda says quietly. “You’re a minor, running off with an adult.”

Louise turns slowly to face her mother. “You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“Try us.”

Her father fixes her with the coldest look she’s ever seen on his face. “You’ve already put your mother in the hospital, do you want to put her in the grave?”

“Bobby!”

“Dad!” Louise wails, her face starting to crumple.

“Lemme talk to her in private Mr. B—Mr. Belcher. Jus’ ten minutes. We’ll be in the meditation room. We won’t go nowhere else, I promise.”

Bob glances at the wall clock. “Ten minutes, not a second more.”

* * * * *

Louise huffs and puffs and sniffles her way down the hall with Zeke at her side, muttering obscenities as she tries to pretend that she’s not wiping tears from her eyes. Zeke chews his lip, his heart aching, knowing the next part is going to about kill them both.

He closes the door and turns to her. Arms crossed, pouting, Louise Belcher is the picture of teenage angst.

“Baby, listen to me—“

“No! They can’t do this! I-I-I won’t let them!”

“Sweetheart—“

“No! No-no-no-no-no-no-!”

Somehow, she finds herself sitting on a chair shaking her head, her fists firmly pressed to her ears, her teeth chattering, as Zeke pets her, murmuring soothing things that she can’t understand. Overwhelmed and exhausted beyond endurance by the day’s events, constitutionally incapable of accepting defeat with quiet dignity, and wholly unwilling to give up the comfort of a text or phone call, Louise is reduced to childish hysterics.

“Yer scarin’ me, sweetheart, hush, it’ll be alright, it’s okay” he assures her over and over, his own voice trembling. He’s never seen Louise melt down like this; he didn’t think she could. “It’s just a li’l hiccup, it won’t mean nuthin’ in the end, hush, darlin’.”

Louise turns swimming eyes to his, and lets him gently pry her fists from her ears. Clasping her hands tightly in his, Zeke tries to smile. “See, babygirl, I’m still here, an’ I’ll be back fer good this summer. It ain’t like we were gonna see each other until after yer birthday anyway.”

“B-b-but they’re sending you away! It’s not fair! I do everything they ask me to do and more! I’m a better adult than all of them put together! And I totally have every right to be with you!”

“I know. It’s just three months, ain’t no thing with all the school an’ work an’—“

“Screw that! We can run away together! I have money, I’ll show you, an—“

Zeke leans in close and presses his forehead against hers, gives her a little Eskimo kiss. He knows he can’t do what he has to do and see her earnest, desperate face clearly; her tears have already chipped away at his resolve, making his own eyes wet.

“Honey, don’t git me sent to prison,” he whispers.

She sits back and blinks at him.

He rubs his thumbs against her hand. Time is so short, so precious, and he needs to do so much with so little of it! “Yer daddy meant what he said, an’ we both know we don’t want the police involved. We _gotta_ be on radio silence. Please baby, do it fer me. Fer The Family. Fer _yer_ family—they’ll never forgive us if we don’t do it. Maybe...well, maybe we owe ‘em one.”

Louise scrunches her face. She doesn’t care much about what the Belchers think at the moment, but she considers the other things he’s said, the oath she took to Mr. Fischoeder, and knows that he’s right. If she contacts Zeke or runs away, she’ll destroy the future she’s worked so hard to create—her future with Zeke, her future with The Family, two years worth of work obliterated in an instant. It occurs to her that she’s benefited enormously from her mob connections, her relationship with Zeke, and very little has been expected of her in return from either of them. She owes both her discretion, her silence, her inaction; and that, for Louise Belcher, is the hardest pill of all to swallow.

She remembers the conversation she had earlier with her mother, and her mouth twitches with dry humor. “If you love something, set it free.”

Zeke droops slightly with relief and hands her a box of tissues from a little table next to him. “I’m comin’ back fer ya, ‘cause I’m yers. June 15th, 12:01 in the mornin’, I’ll call ya, an’ we’ll finalize our plans fer yer birthday.”

“Promise?”

“Of course.”

“ _Promise me!_ ”

Zeke looks deeply into her slightly mad dark eyes. “I promise.”

She sighs heavily and pulls a wad of tissues from the box. Louise blows her nose with a great wet honk that would have made both of them laugh at any other time.

“Now, you buy that red dress, just like I told ya—maybe git a li’l matchin’ sweater or somethin’ too, okay baby, it might be chilly. Ya got our big date to look forward to, an’ school, an’ work, an’ friends meanwhile, an’—“

“Fuck all that.”

“No,” he says firmly. “You go out an’ have a good time an’ take care of yer responsibilities. If ya don’t, you’ll prove yer parents are right, that I’ve ruined ya.”

Louise manages to make a general sound of consent and blows her nose again; the idea of proving her parents wrong, about her, about Zeke, about everything, is the only thing that can motivate her at this point.

A short, sharp knock on the door makes them both jump.

“That’s enough,” Bob declares flatly.

Panic flickers between them; they’ve totally lost track of time. Zeke takes her face between his hands and kisses her hard. He presses his forehead to hers.

“June 15th, 12:01. I promise. After that, the only person who can keep me away from ya is you.”

Louise nods mutely, dully. Zeke stands to leave, and actually makes it to the door before she finds her voice.

“Zeke!”

He turns.

“You can depend on me. Teammate.”

The tears finally spill from his eyes. He crinkles his nose at her; she crinkles back.

Zeke brushes a hand over his face and opens the door, revealing Bob. The two men nod curtly, and Zeke is gone.

Louise manages to haul herself to her feet, her jaw set, her body braced against the waves of disapproval rolling off her father.

“We won’t talk or communicate in any way until 12:01, June 15th,” she says bitterly.

“You’re giving me your word?”

Why won’t he take his pound of flesh and leave her the fuck alone? “Yeh.” Louise’s mouth twists. “You can count on me.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, she knows it before the words finish leaving her mouth.

“Count on you? I don’t know who the _hell_ you are anymore, Louise Belcher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That ended miles from where we started.
> 
> I anticipate posting a follow-up within a month, focusing mainly on Bob. The poor guy has a lot to deal with.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, commenting, and so on. I really appreciate it.
> 
> —DangerFloof

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! 
> 
> I've known for some time that I needed to send the Belchers to a Renaissance Faire, but it took a while to work out how to do it. I've tried to create the feel of a festival, without directly copying any real acts or shops. I know I'm sending up many "types" you might see at these sort of things, but it's all in good fun, and it takes one to know one, right?


End file.
